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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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Wayside Notes 



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Fireside Thoughts. 



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EUDORA. 




ST. LOUIS: 

JOHN BURNS' PUBLISHING CO., 

717 & 719 Olive Street. 



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Copyrig^hted, 1884, 
By E. L. SOUTH. 



THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 



DEDICATION 



TO 



MR. NICHOLAS LINDSAY. 



When England's famous poet, years agone, 

Those beauteous legends wrote of Arthur's time, 

To Albert, Queen Victoria's noble spouse, 

He dedicated every studied line. 

'Twas needful thus, for one who sought for fame, 

To compliment the great and win their aid ; 

But I, who simply write to please myself 

And those I love, may dedicate to you, 

Dear Father, what I've writ. 'Tvvere little use, 

In this free land, to flatter those in power, 

For he who fills the presidential chair 

To-day, when morrow comes is but a man ; 

WhUe he who holds to-day some lowly place, 

Ere mnny times the earth revolve, may stand 

E'en at the nation's head. So, moved alone 

By deepest reverence, purest love, do I, 

My Father, dedicate to you this book. 

(8.> 



PREFACE. 



fOLOMON says, "Of making many books there 
is no end; " while the publishers say, '* Of 
books of travel the number is legion." From the 
"wise man's" declaration, it would seem a piece 
of folly to become the maker of a book of any kind ; 
from the words of the publisher, we may suppose it 
is especially presumptuous to write a book of travels. 
Despite these warnings, however, I have dared to 
present to the public another book, — a book whose 
greater part is filled with " Wayside Notes." While 
the words of Solomon are true, while books without 
number are written, no one man possesses all these 
books. Almost daily, from many sources, comes to 
me the request, " Please send me something to read." 
This request I now propose to answer by offering for 
perusal the following pages. 

I know that books of travel are numerous, but I am 
sure no one contains exactly the things I have told. 
Besides, old things told in a new way have the effect of 
novelty. Many a writer of travels takes for granted 
too much knowledge on the part of the reader, and 
thus fails to make himself understood. Many of the 
letters in this volume were written to my younger 
sister and brothers, and so written as to be understood 

(5) 



b PREFACE. 

by them. My other private letters were addressed to 
those who were as ignorant of Europe as I had been ; 
so those things that were new to me I have presented 
to them. Again, there was no part of my year abroad 
more enjoyable than that spent in interchange of ideas 
with persons of other nationality than my own ; hence, 
I have aimed to associate with each place the people 
there encountered. This, of course, gives to the 
book more individuality than a mere description of 
places could do. 

The contents of "Fireside Thoughts" have been 
written at various times, and called forth by various 
circumstances. Whatever else may be said of these 
poems and essays, I think I can safely promise that 
no reader will be made the worse by their perusal; 
and, it may be, the less experienced may find in them 
some lessons of wisdom. Under many difficulties have 
these "Wayside Notes" and "Fireside Thoughts" 
been finally prepared for the publisher, and the author 
sends them forth with the prayer that they may not 
be wholly barren of good results. 

E. L. South. 



CONTENTS. 



PART FIEST. 



WAYSIDE NOTES. 

LETTER I. 

Atlantic Ocean — The Last Speck of Land — Reflections — New 
Acquaintances — Sea-Sickness — Anecdotes, etc., for Pastime — 
A Rough Day — " Land Ho ! " — The Separation ! . 17-41 

LETTER II. 

Glasgow — The Cathedral — Excursion to the Country — High- 
land Costume — Historic Reminiscences .... 41-52 

LETTER III. 

Leith — Edinboro — West Church — Dr. McGregor — The Na- 
tional Gallery — Holyrood Palace — The Picture Gallery — Lord 
Darnley's Audience Chamber — The Magic Mirror — Arthur's 
Seat 53-67 

LETTER IV. 

North Sea — Leith to Hamburg — Kind Friends — German Eti- 
quette — Victoria Hotel — German Idea of a Full Break- 
fast 67-76 

LETTER V. 

Dresden — Architecture and Scenery — Strange Customs and 
Odd Teams — Our German Professor — German Economy . 77-86 

(7) 



8 CONTENTS. 



LETTER VI. 

Dresden — German Customs — The Street Cars — A Novel 
Courtship 87-95 

LETTER VII. 

Dresden — German Castles — The Zwinger — The Green 
Vaults — The Bronze Room — The Ivory Room — The Chimney 
Room — The Silver Room — An Old Clock — The Crystal 
Room 96-104 

LETTER VIII. 

Dresden — The Vogel Wiese — A Gala Day— The King Prac- 
ticing Archery . 104-114 

LETTER IX. 

Dresden — The Exposition — Lace Making — Silk "Weaving — 
Musical Instruments 114-121 

LETTER X. 

Dresden — Observance of Sunday — The Churches and their 
Services — The Albertinian Society — Grosze Garden — Custom 
atEunerals 122-139 

LETTER XI. 

Dresden — Saxon Switzerland — Jungf rau — Devil's Kitchen — 
View from the Baltic 139-150 

LETTER XII. 

Munich— i Departure from Dresden — Prague — The Old Jew- 
ish Synagogue — Jewish Boys 160-157 

LETTER XIII. 

Munich — A Misunderstanding — Isar Gate — Marien Platz — 
The Royal Theater . . • 157-163 

LETTER XIV. 

Switzerland — Zurich — Bavarian Costume — A German Friend — 
Pere Hyacinthe 163-171 



CONTENTS. 



LETTER XV. 

Geneva — Home of Jolin Calvin — View of Mont Blanc — 
Lake Geneva — An Old Castle 171-178 

LETTER XVI. 

Geneva — Mountain Passes — A Jolly Traveler — Mountain 
Scenes — Vale of Chamounix 178-185 

LETTER XVII. 

Florence — Montanvert — Mer De Glace — Mauvais Pas — 
Martigny 186-196 

LETTER XVIII. 

Florence — Pitti Palace — Boboli Gardens — A Sermon in Ger- 
man 197-202 

LETTER XIX. 

Florence — Waldensian School — The Work Room — Printing 
Office 203-218 

LETTER XX. 
Florence — Pitti Palace — Santa Croce — Boboli Gardens 210-218 

LETTER XXI. 
Florence — Our Neighbors — Gavazzi .... 218-225 

LETTER XXII. 

Florence — Fine Arts — The Old Masters — Giotto — Davinci — 
Michael Angelo 226-235 

LETTER XXIII. 

Florence — The Churches — St. Aununziata — Paintings — 
Architecture 236-239 

LETTER XXIV. 

Florence — The Big Book — A Strange People — "Mrs. Blar- 
ney" 24C-247 



10 CONTENTS. 

LETTEE XXV. 

Florence — The Monastery — Chapter House — Room of the 
Prior 247-253 

LETTER XXVI. 
Florence — Fra Angelico — An Old Library — Massaccio 253-260 

LETTER XXVII. 

Florence — Etruscan Museum — National Museum — Old Rel- 
ics — Bronze Room — Work of the Old Masters . . 261-271 

LETTER XXVIII. 

Florence — American Union Church — Missionary Soci- 
ety 272-276 

LETTER XXIX. 
Florence — Pitti Palace — Saloon of Jupiter . . . 276-283 

LETTER XXX. 

Florence— Ponte Vecchio — An Incident — " The Count " 283-291 

LETTER XXXI. 

Florence — A Noisy Chat — Christmas in Italy — Home of An- 
gelo — Some Old Sketches 292-299 

LETTER XXXII. 

Florence — Waldensian School — A Christmas Tree — Watch 
Night — A Superstitious Custom 299-306 

LETTER XXXIII. 

Florence — Forethought — A Trip to Fiesole — The Old Cathe- 
dral—A Sunset Scene 306-316 

LETTER XXXIV. 
Florence — "Chicago" — Christmas Games . . 316-321 



CONTENTS. 11 



LETTEE XXXV. 

Eome — Eetrospection — Arrival at Eome — French Manners — 
Eeady to Depart . . 322-329 

LETTEE XXXVI. 

Eome — Sistine Chapel — Fresco Work — Designs by Angelo — 
Designs by Eaphael 329-337 

LETTEE XXXVII. 

Eome — The Pope — " Holy Family " — " Blessed 
Infant" 338-344 

LETTEE XXXVIII. 
Rome — Tarpsean Eock — The Disputed Sticks . . 344-349 

LETTEE XXXIX. 

Eome — Fruit From the Vatican — The Capuchins — Quirinal 
Palace — Congratulations ...... 349-356 

LETTEE XL. 

Eome — Garibaldi — St. Peter's Prison — Subterranean Dun- 
geons — American Sculptors — Miss Hosmer . . 357-368 

LETTEE XLI. 
Eome — Appian Way — Old Euins — Ancient Tombs 369-375 

LETTEE XLII. 

Eome — Pleasant Thoughts — Eesponsibilities — Protestant 
Churches . 376-382 

LETTEE XLIII. 

Rome — First Impressions — A Street Scene — A New Arrival — 
Gavazzi 382-388 

LETTEE XLIV. 

Rome — Mountain Scenery — Lava Fields — Vesuvius — The 
Ascent — On The Brink 389-397 



12 CONTENTS. 

LETTER XLV. 

Rome — A Grand Carnival — A Narrow Escape — ^ Victor 
Emanuel 397-408 

LETTER XLVI. 

Rome — The Carnival — Triumph of Bacchus — The Corso — 
The Maccoli 404-410 

LETTER XLVII. 
Florence — Pompeii — The Colosseum . . . 411-414 

LETTER XLVIII. 

Venice — The Bridge — Grand Canal — Works of Art — Bridge 
of Sighs — The Bell Towers — Isola Bella . . ., 415-428 

LETTER XLIX. 

Paris — Ravenna — An Excursion — On the Lakes — The Su- 
perga — Viev? From the Top — Back Again . . . 429-440 

LETTER L. 
Venetian Custom — Farewell to Venice . . . 440-446 

LETTER LL 

Scenes in Paris — Parisian Custom — Works of Art 446-454 

LETTER LII. 

The French Language — A Slight Mistake — The Exposi- 
tion ........... 464-462 

LETTER LIII. 

Atlantic Ocean — Man Overboard — Burial at Sea — Home 
Again 462-468 

LETTER LIV. 
Glencoe — Orange Blossoms . . . . . 468-471 

LETTER LV. 
Excelsior Institute 471-472 



CONTENTS. 



13 



PAKT SECOI^D. 



FIRESIDE THOUGHTS 



ESSAYS, OKIGINAL AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

1 . Valedictory Delivered at Hocker (now Hamilton) Col- 

lege, June 8, 1871 473 

2. Only Waiting 486 

3. Whom to Marry 486 

4. Soliloquy of a Junior 491 

6. Companionship in Marriage . . . . . . 492 

6. " The Lord Goodness ! " ....... 496 

7. Purity of Speech 497 

8. Elocution 600 

9. Memorable Correspondence 606 

TRANSLATIONS. 

10. Hope — Woman .608 

11. Longing — Division of the Earth 511 

12. " Stabat Mater Dolorosa " 612 

13. The Virgin Mother 614 

14. The Pilgrim .516 

15. " Dies Irse " 617 

16. The Brooklet 618 

17. Sayings of Confucius 519 



14 CONTENTS. 

MISCELLANEOUS AND ORIGINAL POEMS. 

18. Snowdrifts 519 

19. Triumph of Faith 520 

20. Sympathy 521 

21. The Sacred Feast 622 

22. A Prayer 622 

23. Too Late 623 

24. Why do I Teach School? 623 

25. "Ultra Alpes Est Italia" 524 

26. In Memoriam — Elijah R. Lindsay . . . • 525 

27. Why is it? 527 

28. In Memoriam — T.J. South 528 

29. "He Loveth a Cheerful Giver" . . . . . 530 

30. Let the Old Seed Die that New Fruit May Come . . 630 

31. The Good Old Times 531 

32. The Opening Year 533 

33. What a Day May Bring 634 

34. A Vision of the Night 536 

35. A Confession 537 

36. Living or Dead 589 

37. The Fatal Dance 540 

38. Who Did This Deed? 542 

39. My Mission 644 

40. Jumbo 647 

41. Triumph of Chastity 648 

SACRED POEMS. 

42. A Day with Jesus 661 

43. How the Stone was Rolled Away 556 

44. David's Lament over Saul and Jonathan. . . . 658 

45. Ruth and Naomi 660 



PAKT I. 

WAYSIDE NOTES. 



(15) 



LETTER I. 



Atlantic Ocean, June 5, 1875. 
Dear Brother Graham : — 

"X\?S^7TE have but this instant lost sight of the last speck 
JV^T of American soil ; but lest events get too f ar 
ahead of my record, I begin, at once, my log-book. 
Three o'clock this afternoon found us on board the 
steamship Elysia, of the Anchor Lide — on the very 
tip top, otherwise the hurricane deck, waiting for her 
to push out towards Glasgow, Scotland. Soon a 
slight tremor passed over the huge frame of the vessel 
and simultaneously the wharf began to recede. A 
moment ago the hundreds on shore had clasped hands 
with the hundreds about departing; now the waters 
rolled between, leaving possible no other token than 
the mutual waving of snowy handkerchiefs. You, 
President, with the rest of our friends, were a thou- 
sand miles away ; we knew not one of the upturned 
faces gazing upon us from the pier; but, nevertheless, 
we, too, unfurled our 'kerchiefs with the rest. Mother 
wept bitter tears when we left her ; friends clung to 
us in parting as if we were never to meet again ; but 
these people smilingly bade us *' God speed," as our 
2 . (17) 



18 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 

gallant steamer moved out to sea. There seemed no 
shadow of a foreboding that ours was to be other than 
a happy journey and a safe return. I must admit, 
though, now that we are fairly at sea, there recur to 
my mind the horrors portrayed by those who fain 
would have frightened us out of the voyage. Can it 
be that from those lovely threads of foam is to be 
woven my funeral shroud ? Can this gentle motion be 
transformed into the terrible tossing which is to drive 
us frantic with sea-sickness ? 

June 6th. — While penning the last sentence an Irish 
Californian came along and advised me to desist, as 
bending over my paper was apt to produce the very 
thing I was dreading. I began to feel chilly too, so 
first going below to don my heavy water-proof, I 
joined my friends on the breezy top. They were 
chatting with two gentlemen whom brother introduced 
as his room-mates. One of them has a decidedly cler- 
ical air, speaking always as if proclaiming an oracle; 
the other is full of repartee, a flash of wit lighting up 
his homely face till you forget its native lack of 
beauty — forget the marks left upon it by small-pox — 
forget the freckles filling the remaining space — forget, 
too, the deformity which compels him to rest upon a 
cane while walking. Both proved to be Presbyterian 
preachers : the one a pompous Scotchman, the other 
a witty son of Erin. They were both brought to 
America while children and received an American 
education, but it takes generations for even our atmos- 
phere to dissipate national peculiarities. They had 



LETTER ONE. 19 

been discussing the probability of encountering 
storms. 

*' Were you ever in a storm, Mr. C?" I asked. 

"Yes, once; it was glorious! I sat flat down on 
deck, held tight to the bulwarks, and let one wave 
after another break over me for more than an hour," 
he responded. 

*'OhI" said I, *' how much good the immersion 
must have done you." 

"So you're a Baptist, are you?" he inquired, 
catching up at once the word " immersion." 

I promptly corrected his mistake, assuring him 
that I wore willingly no other name than that of " Chris- 
tian," or "Disciple." We might have gotten into a 
debate, but were rescued from such a calamity by 
" Adam," namesake of him who originated theologi- 
cal disputes " and all our woes." We knew his name 
was Adam from hearing him so called by a vivacious 
young lady, evidently his traveling companion. He 
came across the deck and took a seat next me, at once 
opening a conversation. " Another Scotchman," was 
my mental comment before he had uttered a dozen 
words. He asked where I was from, what I had 
seen of the world, and where I might be going now. 
When he was through, I took my turn at playing 
" Inquisitive Jack," and as a result, he found me to be 
a Kentucky girl, practically ignorant of the wonders of 
America, but bound to explore the greater ones of 
Europe ; I found in him one who had tried all parts of 
the globe, had settled finally in a Pennsylvania coal 



20 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 

mine, and was now on his way to visit his aged mother 
in Scotland. Such is the approved etiquette of an 
introduction aboard ship. 

The ringing of the tea-bell called us to the saloon, 
where we partook of oatmeal cake and tea. Our 
Scotch friends found in the former dish consolation for 
the fact that we had just been passed by the City of 
Chester. " Slow and sure," is the motto of the 
Scotch sailor, and with oatmeal cake to cheer the way, 
the Scotch passenger can endure the thought of coming 
second into port. 

I thought, last night, the supper rather a frugal 
affair ; but to-day, the reason for that became appar- 
ent. It is the fifth meal of the day. At seven a. m., 
we can have oatmeal porridge in our berths ; and at 
half past eight, comes a bountiful breakfast; at twelve 
a lunch is spread; at four, are served in succession, 
soup, fish, meats with vegetables and sauces, puddings 
and pies, with a dessert of fruits and nuts. In fact, 
we do little else but eat, that is, we of the cabin. Last 
night, *'Adam " called me to see " something funny;" 
I went, through curiosity, and found three or four 
wretched steerage passengers rolling on their part of the 
deck in the agony of sea-sickness. I didn't look long, 
lest I too should catch the epidemic. We were afraid 
to go to our bunks, so we sat out in the fresh air till 
eleven o'clock. The gentlemen spun yarns for us; we 
ladies joined in the chorus of laughter ; then would 
follow an interval in which all silently listened to the 
murmur of the sea, and thought of the dear ones left 



LETTER ONE. 21 

behind. Brother distinguished himself by discover- 
ing a multitude of new stars, not in the sky, but in the 
ocean, lighting up the track over which our vessel was 
speeding. The waters on either side were inky black, 
but just in our wake was a broad line of light, throwing 
off starlike scintillations upon this dark back-ground. 

After all it was not so bad in our state-rooms — 
never enjoyed a sweeter sleep, never opened my eyes 
upon a brighter Lord's-day. Not every one has fared 
so well, though. Just this minute two gentlerhen came 
up, declaring they were going to take a potion of sea- 
water " and have it all over at once " — - yes and here's 
Miss Law, Adam's cousin, who was all vivacity last 
night, now as pale as a ghost. She managed to dress 
by putting on one garment at a time, then lying down 
again — even now her shoes are not laced and her hair 
not combed, but little she cares for that. 

*' And don't you feel at all squeamish, Miss L.?" 
inquires Mr. Conway, while the expression of some 
inner trouble, which he fain would conceal, passes over 
his face. He has to preach at ten, down in the saloon, 
and sugo-ests the text: " And there shall be no more 
sea ; " but I protest against it, as I am yet qiiite in love 
with the playful billows. Kate has developed a sud- 
den fondness for lemons and an aversion to other food. 

June 7th. — We had preaching yesterday at ten, 
according to appointment; Sunday-school at two; and 
yet another service at eight p. m. This service drew 
us nearer together by making us realize our common 
dependence upon one Mighty Arm. Sailors, they say, 



22 ATLANTIC! OCEAN. 

are never content unless there is at least one minister 
of the Gospel on board. They imagine there is safety 
in the mere presence of one whose wont it is to hold 
constant communion with God. 

There were only a straggling few at breakfast this 
morning, but among them was a large, flabby-looking, 
gray-haired man, who has been an object of remark 
ever since we set out. With a young woman, whom 
we supposed to be his daughter, he has been almost 
constantly running the deck. 

" Come, Miss, don't be so lazy," said he to me this 
morning, " take a run with us and you will feel alive 
again. Come, I'll help you get your sea-legs on," 
and, taking my arm, he was off with me before I 
could say yes or no. 

" Very well done,'* he said encouragingly ; ** you'll 
soon learn — get out of breath a little at first, to be 
sure ! " I hadn't much use for breath just then, for 
he talked away, leaving no room for a word from 
me. 

" My wife and I have been much on the water — 
came from New Zealand atjross to San Francisco only 
a month ago — we never are caught by sea-sickness, 
because we walk too fast ! There, now; don't you feel 
wide awake." I did, indeed, and also quite able to 
walk alone, so I yielded his arm to a fresh recruit. 
Made ventursome by our example, quite a number 
joined us. Oh ! how wild is the sea, and how we inhale 
the same spirit as we revel in the invigorating breeze. 
From stern to bow and back again is quite a promenade, 



LETTER ONE. 23 

but we always linger awhile at either end. What a fur- 
row we seem to plow in the deep as the resisting waters 
are thrown right and left by the prow into great ridges 
of snowy froth I How tightly we clasp the iron railing 
at the stern as that part of the vessel is one moment 
thrown high in air, and the next let fall till our heads 
are . on a level with the crest of the wave 1 The sail- 
ors are teaching us now to avoid the front part of the 
vessel. They caught several gentlemen up there 
awhile ago, drew a chalk line around them, and re- 
fused to let them out for less than " a treat." 

June 8th. — The Elysia kept up a doleful whistling 
last night, which greatly disturbed our slumbers. It 
sounded like the despairing notes of a lost child, which 
had alread}'' shouted itself into hoarseness and exhaus- 
tion. Such pitiful tones seemed not at all consistent 
with the majestic movements thus far characteristic of 
our ocean queen. Captain says this whistling was a 
necessary precaution on account of the fog, which pre- 
vailed last night while we were crossing the banks of 
Newfoundland. This morning, though, the sun lights 
up the waters, and expands our view into a diameter 
of more than a dozen miles. The fishing smacks, 
which kept us company all day yesterday, have dis- 
appeared, but just now we beheld a most lovely 
vision. It was a vessel with every sail spread, skim- 
ming along as airily as a sea gull. Her canvas glistened 
in the sunlight with a whiteness second only to that of 
the garments in the Transfiguration, We, too, have up 



24 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 

our mainsail, but it is all blackened by its nearness to 
the smoke-stack. 

Miss P. and I are the only ladies who can walk 
steadily this morning. You ought to see Kate. She 
wouldn't wear her veil yesterday, and as consequence 
her face has reddened and bloated into the appearance 
of a scarlet pincushion. The skin of her forehead 
is puffed out till not even the wonted expression of 
intellect is left. To further enhance her charms, she 
has to envelop her head in a scarlet nubia, the only 
one the summer season enabled her to find in New 
York. It hurts me to look at her, but brother stands 
it admirably. They are sitting now on the leeward side, 
reading together Mrs. Browning's "Aurora Leigh." 
It is too comical to see her, as he comes upon some 
fine sentiment, raise her swollen lids in the attempt to 
look appreciation. If I were such a fright as Kate is, 
I should be just coward enough to hide myself away 
in my state-room; but, in her good-natured way, she 
says: — 

" I had no great amount of beauty to lose, not 
enough to be worth fretting over." 

But I want to tell you about Miss Pickrell. She is 
from Illinois, and brother recognized her name on the 
passenger list. Her brother, who is traveling with 
her, is bound for Ireland, where he intends to invest 
largely in cattle. Two other Illinoisans are on their 
way to France in search of Norman horses. What a 
variety of motives have been at work to bring together 



LETTER ONE. 25 

US passengers of the Eylsia, and how this same divers- 
ity of purpose will, after a few short days, scatter us 
all over Europe I 

This evening the social spirit seems to be overcom- 
ing that misanthropic demon which presides over " mal 
demer.^^ All the ladies are with us in the compan- 
ion-way, some propped up with cushions to be sure, 
but the worst one is able to smile, at least faintly. The 
Captain has been entertaining us with amusing anec- 
dotes. 

" On one voyage," said he, *' there was an old 
Scotch lady among my passengers. On the second 
day out I peeped into the ladies' cabin and never did I 
see a more disconsolate group. ' Well, my dear 
madam, how are you by this time?' I asked in a 
friendly way. * None the better for you, nor your 
miserable ship,' she replied snappishly. I walked 
away determined to pay her for being so cross. After 
half an hour I went back to the cabin and not even 
noticing the old lady, said to another ' Don't feel well, 
do you?' 'No, sir.' 'That's because you're on a 
Scotch steamer — you ought to have known better — 
should have come on the Cunard Line. Don't you 
know the Scotch are stupid about everything — they 
can't build ships, they can't be half way sailors. In 
fact, there is very little they are fit for.' The old 
lady had been too sick to raise her head, but, at the 
end of the first sentence, she sprang up and tried to 
interrupt me. I paid no attention to her, but talked 
on while she grew more and more furious. At last, 



26 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 

she could stand it no longer, but seizing my arm, she 
fairly shrieked out, ' Are you Scotch? Are you 
Scotch, I say. You're a disgrace to your country — 
you're a living disgrace to Scotland.' I laughed in he 
face, then, and said, ' Give us your hand on that, and 
tell me, how do you feel now?' I tell you she was 
never sick another minute after that." 

I think this will be my last entry on sea-sickness, 
for the fifth day is apt to terminate the most aggra- 
vated case. 

June 9th. — We had a game of shuffle-bnard this 
morning. Perhaps you are not familiar with this 
game — don't know that it is often played on land. 
The ship's carpenter laid off for us, on the deck, an 
ellipse with a major axis of some four feet. This he 
divided by cross-lines into nine spaces, in each of 
which he inscribed some number. He next provided 
us with four long-handled v/oodeu shovels and four cir- 
cular pieces of two inch plank, of perhaps two pounds 
weight. Marking off a " taw " ten or fifteen feet 
from the ellipse, the carpenter pronouced the prepa- 
rations complete. My partner was an Irish priest, a 
tall handsome young man, with a well cultivated mind 
and a dignified bearing. He sings most effectively the 
praises of Killarney, with touching pathos the " Grave 
of Napoleon," but he refuses to sing love songs, though 
MissKeill, of Kansas City, has tried to decoy him into 
this inconsistency. Father C, another of the priestly 
fraternity, is by no means so scrupulous. He is like 
the jolly Friar Tuck, who had rather drink wine, play 



LETTER ONE. 27 

" Old Sam " for shillings, or pitch quoits for the sake 
of beating, than to celebrate mass under the dome of 
St. Peter's. But I am forgetting the game. Miss P. 
and a low, fat, baby-faced, white-headed young En- 
glishman were our opponents. I was first to more off, 
and applied my shovel to my round board with great 
vehemence. It didn't go half way to the ring, for 
just as I gave it a push forward, the stern of the vessel 
rose so as to almost counteract my stroke. Taking 
better aim next time and waiting till the stern was 
descending, my block landed entirely beyond the ring. 
Miss P. next took her turn and was much elated as 
her block slided along and finally rested upon number 
ten. My partner, however, adroitly drove against her 
block with such force as to send it to keep company 
with mine. Last came the Englishman, and with per- 
fect confidence he made his thrust. A burst of laugh- 
ter from the lookers-on announced another failure, and 
sure enough the detestable block had chosen to stop 
upon the minus ten. Thus the first round closed with 
twenty in our favor. By and by, we learned to cal- 
culate the effect of the boat's movements, the friction 
of the deck and the amount of muscular energy re- 
quired in order to reach the best numbers. Simple as 
this game seems, it is really a very attractive relief 
from the monotony of eating and breathing. 

June 10th. — My shoulder feels to-day the efiect of 
yesterday's exercise at shufile board. Miss Keill 
started a new diversion, to-day, in the shape of an 
autograph album. Everybody who hasn't a regular 



28 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 

album has consecrated two or three pages of his diary, 
or two or three loose bits of writing paper, to this pur- 
pose. I have even the Captain's name, «* Archibald 
Campbell. " Good name, isn't it? He says he is dis- 
tantly, related to Alexander Campbell, but he knows far 
better the articles of the Presbyterian Confession than 
the simple doctrine of the " Reformer. " 

Portions of a wreck have been passing for the last 
hour: mattresses, doors, broken timbers, etc. There 
are also bales of hay, the presence of which, the sail- 
ors say, betokens a coasting vessel. Since these bales 
are still floating it can not have been more then twen- 
ty four hours since the accident occurred. Captain at- 
tributes the disaster to icebergs, which are to be 
encountered in this region. 

June 11th. — You must not complain, if you find 
this day's record brief and hard to decipher. It is one 
of the roughest days we have had yet. One minute, 
my paper, ink-stand, the table itself, threaten to pre- 
cipitate themselves into my lap, the next, I am clutch- 
ing them desperately, to prevent their taking leave in 
an opposite direction. Kate has made a great hole in 
our pile of lemons, and I thought it not unwise to 
share a small one with her. We can't walk on deck ; 
for, every once in a while, there comes a tremendous 
lurch, sufficient to trip a thorough-bred sailor. The 
first mate says a captain of his acquaintance was taken 
overboard and lost in that way. 

The gentlemen in the smoking-room are unusually 
garrulous. Above all the noise of the storm, come from 



LETTER ONE. 29 

thence the most uproarous shouts of laughter ; and the 
frequent clink of glasses explains the source of such 
untimely merriment. Father C. is most boisterous of 
the party, and, at every outburst, you may know he 
has swept the card-table of its last sixpence. There 
is one among them, however, whose voice never rings 
out in open-hearted jollity ; his very smile is but a 
supercilious curl of the lip, which chills out of the ob- 
server every joyous impulse. Erect and motionless, 
save the muscles which raise and depress his goggle 
eyes, he watches with assumed indifference the cards in 
the hand of his opponent. He doesn't care to play, 
like Father C, with a whole circle of jolly fellows; 
but flatters the half fledged Englishman with his un- 
divided attention. One day the latter is chuckling 
over his success, the next the wily gambler displays a 
handful of English coins. He is a Louisianian, but of 
Italian origin, and I think he has inherited the cunning 
of that southern race. Miss P. and I have seen a great 
deal of him, for when he grows weary of the smoking- 
room, he comes down to the saloon for a talk with us. 
His tones are measured always, and in quoting poetry 
he tries to throw into them a melting sweetness, but I 
feel through it all that there is no heart in it. He 
has a finely cultivated mind, but his heart is barren of 
warm, sympathetic emotions. He has traveled much 
in Europe, speaks several languages ; in fact, has an 
experimental knowledge of almost everything, except, 
perhaps, how to be good. He told us yesterday how 
he once *' played o:ff " on a young lady who made a 



30 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 

false pretense of appreciating Italian poetry. Assum- 
ing a sentimental air, he repeated to her a musical 
passage from Dante. The young lady clasped her 
hands, leaned forward in seeming ecstasy, and, at the 
close, exclaimed, — 

*' Ah ! how true that is. *' 

*' Yes, " replied the Italian, *' and it is as true to- 
day as when first written by the poet. " It was simply 
a statement in metrical lines of the dry fact that Dante 
was born at the mouth of the Po. 

June 14th, — Just after I ceased writing Saturday, B. 
(the Englishman) came up to me and Miss Pickrell 
with the exclamation, — 

"I've been completely skinned. When I get to 
Moville, I shall have to telegraph to my brother-in- 
law for money enough to take me home." 

Poor fellow I I pity him ; for though he is vain and 
self-complaisant, he is a mere youth just yielding him- 
self to the allurements of the gaming-table. 

We had, Saturday evening after tea, an impromptu 
concert. Our walking New Zealander was unani- 
mously called to the chair, and, in his asthmatic tones, 
he bade us come to order. First on the programme 
was Mrs. W., a deaf lady, who could not hear a note 
of the Germanic strains of her overture. She is among 
the notables. We all pitied her affliction, and at first 
tried to entertain her; but it is so difficult to make her 
understand, she now complains of lack of attention. 
She has been twice married and is now a widow of five 
and thirty. She is on her tenth visit to Scotland — 



LETTER ONE. 31 

not that she likes Scotland, she hates it. She hates 
America; she hates the ocean; she hates this steamer 
with its captain, its crew, and its passengers; and 
doubtless, she hates herself as the most unamiable 
thing aboard. She has, however, taken a fancy to 
"Adam." He was standing with me in the door 
awhile ago when she began a solitary promenade back 
and forth, turning upon us each time a spiteful glance. 
Finally stopping, she touched Adam's arm and said in 
a shrill undertone : — 

" I'm independent — I need neither help nor escori.^' 
This hint had so much of command in it, that 
*'Adam" fled precipitately. So much for our first 
performer. 

Mr. Cowan, from Toronto, Canada, was next called 
out, and filled the saloon with echos of *' Scotland 
Yet." Next came my mite, the reading of Hood's 
" Number One." It was received with applause and has 
even won for me the nick-name of "Number One." 
" Father M." rendered with penetrating pathos " The 
Grave of Napoleon." After this, songs and instru- 
mental music followed in succession, till Mr. C. read 
from the programme, " My Experience in an Austra- 
lian Stage-coach, by Adam." " Adam ! Adam ! " came 
from all parts of the room, but no Adam answered. 
He didn't know that his name was on the programme, 
so Capt. C. went out to find him. He came in all 
blushing, running his fingers through his bushy hair, 
looking every direction at once — in fact, appearing 
embarrassment personified. 



32 



ATLANTIC OCEAN. 



*' Well, ladies and gentlemen, I did not know I 
was wanted, you see," he began, " It 'pears 
you want to hear the story I was tellin' yesther- 
day in the companion-way. It was about once 
when I was over yonder in * Straly.' You see, 
I would be a goin' from B. to C, so I take the 
best seat in the coach, for I was the first to apply. 
When we get ready to start it 'pears that a woman 
hadn't no seat left her, but one outside by the driver. 
I couldn't stand that, so I gives her my good place 
and takes hers. After awhile we comes to one of 
them muddy places in the road, and tight sticks our 
wheels, the horses don't move another foot. Our 
driver gets out two ropes, fastens theni to the coach 
and makes the last man get out to help the horses. 
We wuz pullin' away purty well, we thought, when the 
woman raises the window with a bang, pops her head 
out and screams at us; ' Pull away there, you 
wretches, I want to get home:' Now, I couldn't stand 
this, after givin' her my good seat, too. I throws 
down the rope, and says I, ' I don't pull another lick 
till that woman gets out here to help.' And I made 
her get out in the mud and take the rope in front of 
me where I made her pull, I did. So you see ladies, 
scoldin' women sometimes gets paid for their fuss." 
*' Adam " took his seat amidst a universal clapping of 
hands and stamping of feet. A vote of thanks to the 
captain and crew formaking our voyage so delightful, 
was now proposed, and met with a hearty response 
from all. "Auld Lang Syne," "God Save the 



LETTER ONE, 33 

Queen,'* and " Star Spangled Banner," were partici- 
pated in by every voice and heart. 

It was very stormy all day Sunday, the waves roll- 
ing so high as to wash the deck every few minutes. 
As night came on it grew more and more tumultuous, 
so that after retiring we found it impossible to lie still 
in the berth. First you were taken up and pitched 
against the wall on one side, next the attack would come 
in an opposite direction, cutting the other upon the rail- 
ing. I was afraid to go to sleep, last in- one of these 
involuntary gymnastic performances, I should take 
flight from my eyrie to the floor of the hall. At last, 
Kate proposed -to take me into the lower berth beside 
herself. We were so tightly packed in now that we 
couldn't tumble out, but we were as far as ever from 
sleep. We experienced no sense of fear, but the whole 
hall was in a commotion. The stewardess was trying 
to calm the fears of the ladies, but it was almost one 
o'clock, and day was beginning to dawn, when the 
noise within, in common with the fury of the waves 
without, began to subside. The next thing of which 
I was conscious was V. calling me to come aloft to 
behold the grandeur of the raging waters. I begged 
to be excused ; the experience of the night had ren- 
dered me incapable of appreciating the sublime, left 
me fit only to lie there stupid and overcome with fa- 
tigue till the breakfast bell sounded upon our ears a 
startling peal. 

This afternoon Captain C. fastened to the rigging a 
pair of balances, then attached to them a short swing 

3 



34 ATLANTIC OCEAN". 

in which we could sit while he determined our respect- 
ive weights. Despite our frequent and hearty meals, 
the sea air has taken from each several pounds of 
flesh. 

June 15th. — At noon to-day, while writing a letter 
in the cabin, there reached me the shout of " Land, 
ho!" as a dim speck in the distance had been pro- 
nounced Ireland. I kept on though, till the letter- was 
finished, and it is now two o'clock and we can per- 
ceive the greenness of the shore to our right. To the 
left, too, we just now detected a white spot, which the 
glass enlarges into a light-house surrounded by a wall. 
It is amusing to witness the enthusiasm of our Irish 
friends. Every one has doffed his sea clothes, and 
now appears in a brand new suit with a plug hat. Mr. 
S. smilingly lets me know that he must leave us at 
*' Derry," and hopes I will send him cards when I get 
married. Poor man ! his trials are nearly over. In 
his boyhood's home will come no reminder of the 
ginger ale on which he staked his honor and lost, no 
torturing reference to the borrowed sixpence which he 
will not repay to Father C, no dark threats that his 
white beaver must pay the forfeit for his littleness. 
"California," too, may henceforth wear his mottled 
buttons in peace, or, if he chooses, to put on his linen suit 
and straw hat in November weather. No longer need 
he be exasperated at the disputes of Miss Keill and the 
old widow over the future possession of his part of the 
Pacific slope with its orange groves. Old Mr. Kelly 
smiles feebly from beneath his skullcap, in the vain 



LETTER ONE. 35 

attempt to look joung again, in the presence of what, 
fifty years ago, were scenes familiar to his eyes. He 
has come to receive an inheritance of several thousand 
pounds here in Ireland ; but, if he is a good man, and 
he seeems to be, he will, ere long, enter upon a richer 
reward for " crossing the waters. ' ' The late Mr. Dunn, 
so called for his uniform tardiness at meals, is, for 
once, on time, and is feasting his eyes upon this glimpse 
of his native land. 

Here we are, right upon Tory Island, which stretches 
out into a flat, but rock-bound cape on the further ex- 
tremity of which is the light-house. Towards the 
center it rises into knolls on which vegetables are grow- 
ing for the occupants of the thatch-covered cottages 
clustered into a village below. These islanders think 
of other than physical wants, however, for the spire 
of a neat little church adorns the humble village. 
We're passing now between the island and the main- 
land, and the coast of the former has grown gradually 
more rugged till here it rises perpendicularly from the 
water to the height of several hundred feet. This 
bluff is softened by a velvety covering of verdure, and 
upon its summit the venturesome goat and sheep has 
found an evening meal. There goes the tea-bell I 

We're on deck ao;ain and Mr. Cowan is shouting; 

*' Moville I and the pilot is getting on board — yes, 
and yonder is the « tug ' to take you on to Derry, 
Miss P." 

"The rocky coast of Ireland requires care- 
ful navigation and our pilot is to remain on board till 



36 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 

we shall be once more beyond the reach of its breakers. 
Ugh! what a dreary looking affair is that " tug " in 
contrast with our ten days' home, the neat Elysia; 
how dismal are " Ireland's tears, " as Mr. C. calls the 
drizzling rain. The " tug " has drawn up along side 
now, and one trunk after another slides down the gang- 
way. We must begin the good-bys. The Englishman 
and Italian seem determined to cling till the last to 
Miss P. " The latter assures her he should consider 
himself "utterly busted," if he had to ride eight- 
een miles in that beautiful ( !) cabin. She feels blue,- 
I know, but bravely keeps up a cheerful appearance. 
Father M. is first to try the dreaded cabin, but here he 
is on top again. 

*' What's the matter, Father? "some one inquires. 

"It's worse than the Black Hole of Calcutta," 
was the response. 

"Sing Killarney, " tauntingly shouted Brother, and 
for the last time. Father M., standing there in the 
rain, sang to us the strains so endeared tons all. 

"This is injustice to America and Canada," 
broke in the stentorian voice of Father C, as 
he returned from a survey of the " tug's " accommo- 
dations ; but, a moment after he was good-humor- 
edly throwing his hat in air, as he joined in the 
three times three uttered as a farewell by the whole 
party. Miss P. threw us a kiss, and vanished be- 
low and that's the last I know of her trip to 
Europe ; but I wish her the pleasant time she merits. 



LETTER ONE. 37 

June 16th. — It was nearly nine o'clock yesterday 
evening when our friends left, and the rest of us re- 
paired to the saloon. We had intended to have a good 
time, but the room had such a deserted air, the music 
was so poor without Father M., that we all settled into 
sober silence. About ten, we went up to see the effect 
of moonlight upon the water. We were just finding 
our way out of Loch Foyle, and passing again the 
light-houses, villages, ivy-mantled castles, and cross- 
surmounted churches of this northern coast of Ireland. 
In the imperfect light of the moon, the rugged banks 
of earth united with the horizon clouds, thus exaggera- 
ting hills into mountains. 

Going below once more the Italian offered to enter- 
tain us by reading to us one of his "Letters from 
Abroad," which he had cut from a New Orleans paper 
and brought for the purpose, It was about a visit to 
the Paris Catacombs, and he had hardly begun when he 
felt something pulling at the carpet under the table. 

"What in the name of reason is that I " he exclaimed 
and read a little further. 

" Little boy, if you don't mind I'll put my foot 
on your fingers in a way you won't like," was the 
next parenthesis. 

Now the steward began dismantling the table, 
trying to pull the cloth from under DaPonte's elbows. 

" What's going on down here to-night ! These fel- 
lows'll be the death o' me yet," and on he read as if 
he didn't know he was in the way. 



38 THE CLYDE. 

At this the steward angrily seized the bell and rang 
us to our rooms, thus giving him a chance to get the 
saloon into landing order. 

This morning V.'s voice was the first thing I heard. 

" Get up ; we're entering the Frith of Clyde, and you 
are missing the most beautiful scenery I ever beheld." 

Yawning, rubbing my eyes, getting up, and dressing 
leisurely, I at last went up stairs, to find that the 
enthusiastic among us had been up since two or three 
o'clock. I do not intend to dull the edge of my 
appreciation by the neglect of needed rest. I had 
merely time to learn that theverdant, but treeless, shore 
to our left was the Isle of Bute, when we were called 
to breakfast. While eating, anchors were cast in 
Greenock Bay to wait for the tide to bear us up the 
river. The city of Greenock fringes on three sides 
the pellucid waters of the bay; we were in the mid§t 
of anchored vessels, waiting, like ourselves, for the 
coming tide; lively little ferry steamers plied back 
and forth between Greenock and the opposite burgh. 
About eight the tide was in, and the tug Hotspur, 
after much driving around our bow, finally threw us 
a rope and offered to tug us out to the channel ; the 
Flying Arrow attached to our stern, aided in this 
undertaking. In fact, they remained our faithful 
companions all the way to Glasgow. I got a place 
near the Captain and he pointed out for us the places 
of interest on either side. At very short intervals we 
came upon dock-vards, where were ships in every stage 
of development. In one only the long, narrow, iron keel 



LETTER ONE. 39 

was in place; the second had, fastened to this back- 
bone, the ribs which keep together the body of the 
ship ; a third had these ribs partially covered with the 
flat iron slabs, so cut as to fit the form of the keel; 
while yet a fourth lacked only the rigging to render it 
fit for launching. Among these ship-yards was the 
Napier, where the Alabama was built, hence where all 
the difficulties pertaining thereto had an origin. 

" There's old Dumbarton Castle," said the Captain, 
as a steep promontory appeared on our left. "The 
sword of Sir William Wallace is still preserved there, 
and it is so long, they say, that no man of modern 
times can, when it is buckled around him, draw it from 
its sheath." 

A few pieces of cannon, still frowning over the bat- 
tlements, remind one of the warlike days of the heroic 
Scottish chiefs ; but an omnibus and an unguarded 
landing for boats at the base, greatly detract from the 
romantic associations of the spot. 

Beyond this castle, the river begins to grow narrow 
and one is continually meeting the dirty little steamers 
engaged in dredging out the channel. This is done by 
means of a patent chain of buckets revolving over a 
wheel. They fill themselves with mud, then ascend 
an inclined plane, and pour their contents into a 
huge receptacle at the top. This dissolved earth is 
taken and converted into fields all along the banks, 
which are tended with care and made to produce an 
abundance of oats, peas, beans, or barley. I observed, 
at short intervals, on either side now, in large capitals. 



40 TIIK CLYDE. 

the sign, '* Dead Slow," observed too, that theElysia 
was carefully heeding the injunction. 

*' Why need we move so slowly, Captain? " I in- 
quired. 

"Should we put on more steam," said he, "the 
waves would break through the walls of the quay, wash 
off the timber for ship-building, and overflow all those 
gardens." 

We scarcely moved, and scarcely cared to move, for 
we knew the friendships so hastily ripened must be 
but too soon lost forever. We had dreaded to begin 
the voyage, but it was with sincere regret we ap- 
proached its end. 

The sun had lighted us all the way up the Clyde, but 
as the smoke of Glasgow came in view, there was pre- 
sented every appearance of rain. 

" You must clear the hurricane deck !" shouted the 
commander, and we instantly obeyed. 

It was like breaking up house-keeping, everything 
was in such commotion. As soon as we were all down, 
the steps connecting this with the lower deck were 
removed, after which Mr. Cowan remembered that he 
had left something up there. He climbed upon a piece 
of machinery to look, when suddenly the wheel began 
to move and it was only by a quick leap he saved 
himself from a broken limb. This was our nearest 
approach to an accident during the journey, except 
when, a few hours before, the impetuous Hotspur had 
grounded us, thus giving herself an excuse for some 
hard work. I forgot to say we learned at Moville 



LETTER TWO. 41 

more particulars of the wreck. It was the Vicks- 
burg, sailing from Quebec with eighty on board, of 
whom only five had been rescued. 

Omitting details in regard to landing, final farewells 
and custom-house trials, I will close for the present. 
We are at the Waverly Temperance Hotel on Buchanan 
Street, Glasgow, but have as yet seen little of the city 
except the tile roofs which are visible from this third- 
story window. Letters addressed in care of Heidel- 
back, Gans & Co., Berlin, Prussia, will reach us and 
be most welcome. Yours, 

EUDORA. 



LETTER II. 



Glasgow, June 16, 1875. 
Dear Brother South .• 

iTT HAVE just mailed my first letter to President, a 
^ part of which you will find published in the Apos- 
tolic Times. We are going in a few minutes to visit 
the Cathedral, the pride of Glasgow, but I wish to tell 
you what occurred at the dinner-table awhile ago. A 
Scotchman sitting near me said to another : — 

** I think of going over to America, to that Exhib- 
tion next spring. ' ' 



42 GLASGOW. 

*' You do? Ah I Then you'll find use for all your 
descriptive talent," was the response. 

" Oh 1 1 suppose there will be little that is new — 
mainly copies of what we have already seen at Paris 
and Vienna." 

"Well, it's wonderful what speakers the Amer- 
icans are. Their language is as boundless as their 
country." 

"Yes, do you know Mr. L., a member of my 
staff ? He has been over there, and affects their 
style of expression. A foreigner was arrested for some 
misdemeanor, and pleaded at his trial that he was 
a stranger ignorant of the law. This plea amounted 
to nothing. Said the Yankeefied judge : ' You are a 
stranger, and we'll take you in for thirty days.' 

This conversation was interrupted by the entrance of 
a gentleman, whom our hostrose to greet, and direct to 
a room. 

" He has been seven months in America," ex- 
plained the landlord, after he was reseated. " He 
was with his wife in the mountains for her health — in 
Virginia — that's where the mountains are ; I believe ? " 
said he, with a look of inquiry towards Kate. She 
told him there are mountains in Virginia, but much 
higher ones in other States. 

June 17th — We had to buy umbrellas yesterday the 
first thing. No matter if the sun is shining, people 
carry umbrellas all the same, for it can cloud up and 
rain in less than five minutes. We didn't stop for 



LETTER TWO. 43 

showers, though, but sheltered by our freshly pur- 
chased umbrellas, set out, about four p. m.,for the 
Cathedral. Rather late to begin a day's work, you 
may think, but remember daylight lasts here till nine 
o'clock. 

We entered the Cathedral at the south side, the 
great folding doors on the west being closed. The 
light, softened by the stained glass of the windows, 
falls gratefully upon the eye, and renders looking 
around a luxury. These bright windows have not 
upon them the antiquity which has mottled the rest of 
the structure. I see from their inscriptions that many 
of them are memorial offerings from persons who 
are still living. It is easy for a Bible-reader to inter- 
pret the scenes portrayed on the glass : here are Adam 
and Eve, driven weeping from the garden ; here is 
Gideon with his picked men, each armed with his 
candle and pitcher ; here is the lovely Euth gleaning 
in the field of Boaz ; here is the triumphant David, and 
further on the prophets in gorgeous array. Below 
the windows are monumental tablets, and groups in 
bronze or marble commemorating brave deeds of civic 
or martial heroes. Their dust is beneath the pave- 
ment on which we tread, but the inscriptions tell that 
so long as they had life they allowed themselves 
trampled under foot by no man. Following these 
pictures and epitaphs, one reaches the entrance to 
another apartment, but before ascending the steps to 
it, one naturally turns to see how far he has come. 
Oh ! it is a long way back to that western door, and 



44 GLASGOW. 

wide aisles are those formed by the seven pairs of 
clustered columns which divide the nave. More than 
half a hundred steps would be required to reach the 
open air. 

But what is this next apartment ? Ah I here are 
cushioned seats for the devout worshiper, here a gallery 
right over the entrance for the choir, and yonder in 
the center is a rostrum with a pulpit to be reached by 
a short flight of steps. Surely, the Gospel in its 
purity ought to be proclaimed from the desk, for, from 
the painted window just behind, Mathew,Mark, Luke, 
and John, large as life, are looking down upon the 
assembly with seeming approbation. Kate and brother 
have gone into the chapel of *' Our Lady, " so-called 
by the worshipers of the Virgin, to whom this pile 
belonged before it fell into the hands of the Presbyte- 
rians. 

The next door to the left admits us to the Chapter 
House, where the cushionless seats around the walls 
appear as stately and unyielding as I imagine the digni- 
taries for whom they are intended. 

Returning once more to the nave, we met our New 
Zealand friend and his wife. 

" Have you seen the crypts yet?" he inquired. 

We answered in the negative, so the old man said : 

"Susie, you go show them St. Mungo'stomb, and 
everything. I'll wait here, for I am out of breath. " 

She turned with us to a low door-way at the 
right of the choir steps. Gradually we descend, 
and gradually the daylight fades, till only the 



LETTER TWO. 45 

faintest glimmer lights the path through the forest 
of low, gray, clustered columns. Surely^ I have been 
here before ! Ah ! yes, 'twas by the hand of Scott I 
was led. Here, Francis Osbaldistone found the prayer- 
ful assembly, and we understand now the awe which 
filled him as he tried in vain to penetrate the surround- 
ing gloom. Involuntarily we listen to catch the 
solemn echoes of a humble prayer ; we expect behind 
each column to find some kneeling worshiper. But no, 
the only occupants now are the silent dead. 'Tis an 
honor to rest in the cold, damp shades of this place, 
but I should prefer some bright -green spot out in the 
sunlight to mingling my dust with that which has been 
molding here for centuries. To be sure, those old stone 
sarcophagi, scooped out by hands whose last labor was 
performed twelve hundred years ago, are interesting rel- 
ics ; but who knows aught now of the human clay which 
they enshrined? But there is no time for the tourist to 
moralize. There is the Necropolis to be visited. The 
yard of the Cathedral is itself a city of the dead, but 
on the hill beyond is the modern cemetery. Forty 
years ago this was but a rugged hill with no great 
marks of beauty, but at the expense of the Glasgow 
merchants, it has been cut into thickly turfed terraces, 
reached by well graveled paths. With its numberless 
marble shafts and slabs of reddish granite, it makes a 
beautiful background for the Cathedral. At the gate 
we were greeted by a long lank specimen of humanity 
emitting with each breath the fumes of Scotch whisky, 
and looking, in his linen clothes, as if some such inter- 



4G GLASGOW. 

nal warmth might be needed. He invited us into his 
office to register our names, and, merely to entertain 
us ( !), he showed us a number of stereoscopic views 
of the city, causually remarking that he was willing to 
part with them for a shilling each. Released at last 
from the old man, we crossed the bridge over the 
romantic Molindinar Burn, and entered The Necropolis. 
Winding around the hill, pausing now and then to 
pluck a modest daisy, ascending by steps from one 
terrace to the next, we stood at last on the very top, 
just in the shadow of the tallest monument. We 
could see from below, that it was a fluted column with a 
square base and surmounted by a full length statute. 
Now we could read the inscriptions on the four sides 
of the base, and learn that in this marble offering 
Glasgow would do honor to the stern reformer, John 
Knox. We had thought to get a fine view from this 
elevated site, but so enveloped was everything in the 
smoke belched forth from various factories, that 
house roofs could not be distinguished from hill-sides. 
From the Necropolis we directed our steps to St. 
George's Square. This square is near the center of 
the city and is surrounded by some handsome build- 
ings, among others Queen's Hotel. I looked to see if 
I could catch a glimpse of any of our Atlantic friends, 
and sure enough there was, shining through the win- 
dow, the bald crown of the Italian's head, while stand- 
ing beside him appeared the little Englishman. No 
fear that the Italian will loose sight of B. till that 
debt of honor is paid. St. George's Square is cut up 



LETTER TWO. 47 

into eight grassy plots, and is ornamented by a num- 
ber of statues; Queen Yictoria and Prince Albert on 
horseback ; Walter Scott at the top of an eighty foot 
column; Lord Clyde standing very erect as if mutely 
asserting superiority ; Sir John Moore, whose sweet 
face makes you regret he could find no belter burial 
place than the foe-trodden battle field ; Watts, on the 
northwest corner, looking almost philosopher enough 
to apply a motive power to his own stony limbs. iSo 
much for our first afternoon on European soil. 

June 18th. — -I suppose now I ought to tell you of 
our visit yesterday to the Royal Exchange, to a large 
book store, and to Kelvin Grove Park ; but I have 
had, to-day, such a delightful excursion to the country, 
I do not feel like binding my spirit now within narrow 
city limits. We decided last night that, this morning 
at seven, we must take the cars, so, after a stout 
breakfast of beefsteak and coffee, we repaired to the 
station. On the road, a Scotchman, who shared with 
us our car-box, pointed out Stirling Castle on the left 
and a monument to William Wallace to the right. The 
castle was too far away for us to distinguish the win- 
dow out of which Douglas was thrown by James II., 
but there was the precipice down which he must have 
fallen. At Callander, fourteen miles from Glasgow, 
we found a coach in waiting, but it seemed to me al- 
ready full. 

"Room for three more," said the coachman. 
" Right here, Miss," and, climbing a ladder, I depos- 
ited myself beside a strange lady, while Kate and 



48 TROSSACHS. 

Brother were several seats in front. My neighbor 
proved to be an English lady, who, for the present, 
is stopping near Callander, that her invalid daughter 
may enjoy the health-giving Scottish air. They were 
agreeable companions, but it would have taken very 
disagreeable ones to destroy the charm of our sur- 
roundings. Beside our road, in a channel so even and 
so paved with pebbles as to seem a work of art, 
rushed the Leny River. At least they call it a river, 
but in our country where our idea of a river is asso- 
ciated with such streams as the Mississippi and Ohio, 
we would call it a creek. It made many a lovely turn 
in the valley to our left, sparkling throughout its 
course in the June day sun. On our right rose Ben 
Ledi (Hill of God), its summit once a place of Druid- 
ical worship. A curious stone, very large, but joined 
by a slender support to the mountain, crowns the 
highest point. *' Sampson's Putting Stone," read Dr. 
B. from his book, and surely Sampson must have 
placed it there, for no ordinary man could do it. Ere 
long we came upon the source of the Leny's rippling 
tide. 

. *' This is Loch Vennacher and yonder is the Inver- 
trossachs — just over the lake there, on that rise of 
ground half hidden by the trees. That's where her 
Majesty spent the summer of 1869, in fact, since the 
death of Prince Albert, she is very partial to this quiet 
retreat. He loved Scotland, and she loves it for his 
sake. The English dislike for her to be absent from 
their midst, for it takes from them the gayeties of the 



LETTER TWO. 49 

court. But it is only pleasure she neglects, not 
duty." 

Such were the remarks of my English friend, as we 
skirted, for five miles, the transparent lake. This 
conversation brought us to a green valley which we 
recognized as Lannick Mead, the mustering place of 
Clan Alpine when summoned by Rhoderic Dhu. 

" I wonder if that is the last remnant of the clan?" 
was our comment, as we caught sight of a , solitary 
Highlander on the green. 

It was the first we had seen of the Highland costume. 
The material of his suit was a coarse brown goods in-0 
stead of the plaid. To a loose blouse waist was fas- 
tened a short full side-plaited skirt which left the knee 
quite bare, for the stockings terminate below it. 

" The Russians, at the battle of Sevastopol, mistook 
the Highland regiment for the wives of the British 
soldiers, but they soon found they were not fighting 
with women," said Dr. Bush. 

"But what says our guide of that cluster of low, 
straw-thatched habitations yonder?" 

" Duncraggan Huts, eh? The place where the mes- 
senger of the fiery cross found them mourning over 
the lost Duncan, whose youthful son, dashing away 
the tears, sped forth on the mission for which his sire 
was no longer fit." 

Crossing the " Brig o' Turk " over Glenfinlas Water, 
whose source is lost in the dim aisle of trees to our 
right, we catch a glimpse of Loch Archray, reflecting 
4 



50 TROSSACHS. 

from its placid depths the little church which marks 
the footprint of some evangelist. 

Now a gothic structure of gray stone meets the eye, 
its pointed towers standing out sharp against its back- 
ground of heath-covered mountains. We wish now 
that we had arranged affairs to stay over night at this 
neat hotel and explore the vicinity ; but we are allowed 
only two minutes' delay previous to entering the narrow 
twilight defile leading to Loch Katrine. How inspir- 
ing must have been that pathless wild, when first 
traced by the lonely Fitz James. He knew not 
whither his way was tending, and no more did we, 
till a gleam of light far ahead was pronounced the ver- 
itable Loch Katrine. Rob Roy was waiting to receive 
us; so, snatching a bunch of heather and bracken 
as souvenirs of the spot, we ran along the thatch- 
covered avenue to the rustic pier, and trusted 
ourselves to the mercies, not of the freebooter 
himself, but of the little steamer which bears 
his name. It seems strange that here, not more 
than forty miles from the thriving Glasgow, there 
should exist such a wilderness. But not entirely to 
the reign of wild romance is this spot left undisturbed; 
for, on the left bank, appears the aqueduct of the Glas- 
gow water-works. The city treasury has thus given 
$3,000,000 for the privilege of partaking daily sweet 
draughts of mountaindew. But what right has prosaic 
man to iuvade this home of the Lady of the Lake? 
Ben A' an stands guard o'er Ellen's Isle; Ben Venne 



LETTER TWO. 51 

watches jet the Goblin's Cave in which the Douglas 
found refuge from James, while Ellen was shielded 
from the unwelcome love of E-hoderic Dhu. The 
grotto home on the aisle is gone, but white, as in the 
days of Scott, still glistens the " silver strand." Ellen 
herself, in her airy boat, could not have guided us 
more gently over Katrine's unruffled breast ; but, 
mayhap, the dip of her oars could have been sweeter 
music than the creaking which accompanied Rob Roy's 
movements. So imperceptible was the motion of our 
little boat, that it scarcely broke the shadows cast by 
Ben Venue into the lake. Thus we were borne from 
one end to the other of Loch Katrine, and deposited 
at Stronachlacher Pier. This pier, with its hotel, 
marks the beginning of a new part of our journey — 
the beginning, too, of a new scramble for first seats in 
the coach. One man, in his haste, leaped over the side 
of the boat, and narrowly escaped a fall into the 
water. During this five mile stage, we saw many hills, 
many scrub cattle, many stone-colored sheep, many 
heaps of peat ready for winter fuel, a few thatched 
huts, one garden, twenty feet in diameter, one little 
Loch Arklet, and the stream which hurries its waters 
on to Lomond, enough dirty urchins to make orna- 
mental hangings for the back of our coach. As we 
neared Inversnaid, we hung for some distance over the 
edge of a precipice, at whose base the Arklet Water 
rushes on, leaping from rock to rock and crag to crag, 
till with one last mighty effort it plunges headlong 
over a steep ledge into the lake. 



52 TROSSACHS. 

The prince of Scotch outlaws had borne us over 
Loch Katrine, and now the '' Prince of Wales " waited 
till our dinner was eaten that he might display to us 
the rival charms of Loch Lomond. This is called the 
queen of Scotch lakes, but I was almost too weary to 
appreciate it. Ben Lomond? Oh lyes; I remember 
now; it was in my Fourth Reader, that story of the 
Ben Lomond horse, which scaled the rugged side of 
this mountain to find once more the mountain home 
from which he had been sold. Well, really, I believe 
there is, to me, more poetry in this association with 
my childhood, than in the beautifully jingling lines of 
Scott. Ben Voirlich rises 3,092 feet above us, adding 
much to the grandeur of the scene; Rob Roy's Cave 
furnishes the historic interest, as there Bruce prepared 
himself for his battle with McDougal; the occupied 
castles on either bank, and the neat hotels at every 
pier, connect the lake with the realities of Scot- 
land's present. Driven down to the cabin by the dis- 
agreeable wind, we saw there an elegant Sevres vase, 
presented to the captain by the Empress Eugenie, as a 
token of her gratitude for his kind treatment of her 
when she was making the tour of the lakes. At Bal- 
lock, twenty miles from Inversnaid, we once more 
exchanged boat for cars, and reached the hotel here at 
five p. m. 

Perhaps you'll think me partial to President, as I 
have written to him at much greater length; but I am 
thus brief that I may make sure of to-morrow's 
steamer. Eudoka. 



LETTER THEEE. 53 



LETTER III. 



Leith, June 23, 1875, 
Dear Brother Graham: 

"^S^^T^ have just come aboard the North Star bound 
^^V"^ for Hamburg, but as there is yet an hour before 
time to start I shall employ the interval in giving you 
some account of our proceedings since leaving Glasgow. 
On Saturday, June 29th, about three p. m., our queer- 
looking European cars whistled down brakes in front 
of East Prince's Street Gardens, Edinboro, and in a 
few minutes thereafter our ba2;2;ao;e was beino; trundled 
along in front of us, by a man who had quietly and 
politely proffered the use of his hand-cart for that 
purpose. Before we had gone half of the three squares 
between depot and hotel, we were greeted by a shower. 
*' Glasgow the second ! " was the mental ejaculation 
of each one, as we raised our now omnipresent 
umbrellas. Happy to say, however, this judgment was 
hasty; we have seen no rain since, and very little 
smoke. A single glance from our front window up 
and down Prince's Street revealed the fact that we were 
in a city of magnificent monuments, handsome modern 
palaces, and refreshing gardens. Overlooking the city 
from an elevation to the right appeared old Edinboro 



54 . EDINBORO. 

Castle. The gray stone of its walls was hidden in a mantle 
of greenest ivy, and above this covering we saw a line 
of scarlet, which, at a distance, we took to be poppies ; 
but by a glass these supposed wild flowers were mag- 
nified into the first *' Red Coats" we had seen — 
descendants of those same fellows who, more than the 
" Red Skins," hindered the first steps of our country's 
progress. Strange that we could look upon them with 
no feeling of bitterness in our hearts ; but magna- 
nimity forbids the victor to cherish any but feelings of 
forgiveness toward the conquered. But I know what it 
is that makes us love the people of Great Britain — I am 
reminded of it by the monument to Sir Walter Scott, 
then between us and those " Red Coats " on that castle 
wall. English literature is the literature as well, of 
Americans, and it is this influence which binds us still 
to the " Mother Country." 

We decided to leave sight-seeing until Monday, to 
spend that evening in writing up our journals ; to go 
Sunday to church. Desiring to obtain some knowl- 
edge of the Scotch Presb^^terians, we were directed to 
West church to hear Dr. McGregor, one of their ablest 
ministers. At the vestibule we were told to wait 
awhile, and we should have seats. Hundreds of regu- 
lar sitters pushed past us, and yet the usher bade 
us wait. We grew tired, at length, and, unbidden, 
joined the stream of persons, and without difficulty the 
sexton found us a pew. We glanced around at the 
congregation, but so high were the backs of the seats, 
it seemed to consist merely of an indefinite number of 



LETTER THREE. 55 

heads, while we ourselves felt completely penned in. 
We were beneath the gallery, so its occupants were 
visible. " Let us pray, " said a voice above me, and 
there in front, in a balcony-like pulpit, up even with 
the gallery, appeared the head, shoulders, and uplifted 
arms undoubtedly connected with the aerial tones. 
We all rose and for twenty- five minutes tried to follow 
him in supplication. After the singing of a psalm, he 
announced his text: Ps. xxix: 2. From the language: 
"Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness," he 
argued that when a congregation was able, it was a 
duty to erect and consecrate splendid cathedrals to the 
Lord. He applied the words also to the beautifying 
the spiritual temple; but his seemingly affected, and 
truly monotonous, delivery rendered his exhortations 
far from impressive. After the sermon, came another 
set of petitions and repetitions. This time he prayed, 
individually, for every political ofBcer and every ecclesi- 
astical body in the kingdom. How, in that illy ven- 
tilated room, and with his two-thousandth part of the 
small supply of oxygen, he could keep his vocal organs 
so long in operation, is a mystery to me. I felt glad 
to get outside and expand my lungs once more. In 
the afternoon we sought out the Congregationalists, 
and with better success. In plain and simple language 
the white-haired minister read and commented upon 
the passage, "I'm not ashamed of the gospel," etc. 
Monday morning at ten, we made our way to the 
National Gallery, the most convenient place of inter- 
est to which we could have access so early. We wan- 



56 EDINBORO. 

dered through the four or five circular rooms, filled 
with life-size portraits, broad landscapes, plainly de- 
picted historical, fancy or dramatic scenes ; and neatly 
carved busts and statues. French and Italian, Scotch 
and English names were on the list of artists. Of all 
this medley, however, one little ellipse (its major axis 
wasn't more than twelve inches) longest held my eye. 
The design first struck me with its originality ; there 
was nothing in the execution to destroy the impression. 
The scene is a humble bare-floored room, furnished 
with a few chairs and a rude table, on which an antique 
lamp is burning. A young man, with handsome form, 
waving locks, and regular profile sits near the table ; 
on his knee is a beautiful young girl, who with one 
hand is tracino; the outline of his shadow on the rouojh 
wall, while with the thumb and finger of the other she 
holds his chin so that just the right proportion will be 
given to the features. The ^^ Origin of Painting^' is 
what David Allen, the artist thus portrays. All other 
pictures, even a very fine one by Landseer, I must leave 
unnoticed ; for you must go with me now to Holyrood 
Palace out at the southeast end of New Edinburgh 
or Edinboro, as the people here call it. Consulting 
our map, we found the Canongate to be the main 
avenue to the palace. Moreover, our guide-book cer- 
tified that this was formerly the abode of the great and 
wealthy, and the street over which, in days agone, the 
beauty and nobility of Scotland were wont to pass. 
It is said that Scott loved to drive at a funeral pace 
along this road, and, gazing upon the architectural 



LETTER THREE. 57 

remnants of the sixteenth century, recall with delight 
their historical associations. Had Mr. S. been with us 
this afternoon, however, and walking, as we were, I 
think that the present would have occupied even his great 
Eoind. About every three steps there was a door, and 
at every door half a dozen dirty-faced children reveled 
in the filth of the street, while their equally tidy mam- 
mas watched their sports with the thought: "Oh! 
would that I were a child again. " Indeed one woman 
was so overcome she was lying flat upon the pavement 
surrounded by a group of sympathizing friends. A 
little further on we overtook a man who seemed to be 
illustrating Hogarth's line of grace. Suddenly he 
seemed to perceive us, and as if too full for utterance, 
attempted to fall into our arms. Failing to recognize 
him, we stepped aside, and allowed Mother Earth to 
receive his embrace. By the way, Scotch whisky is 
as famous here for reducing manJcmd to a level as Old 
Bourbon at home. 

At length we found ourselves in front of that edifice 
sacred to the memory of Scotland's past independ- 
ence. Of course it does not come within the province 
of these letters to give the history of every place we 
visit. Taking it for granted that every reader knows 
or will find out that Holyrood Palace was founded by 
David I. in 1128, and received additions afterward at 
the command of James V. and Charles H., I will ask 
you to contemplate, for a moment, this west front, 
with a tower on either side jointed by a row of two- 
story rooms with an entrance in the middle. Going in 



58 EDINBORO. 

we procared tickets to the whole palace for a sixpence 
each. 

" Take the jfirst door to the left of the quad- 
rangle, go up the steps and you will come to a picture 
gallery," was the direction given by the ticket agent. 

By quadrangle he meant the court inclosed by the 
inner walls of the palace into which all the doors 
opened, thus making the gateway the only means of 
exit to the street. One De Witt, 1684, painted the 
one hundred Scottish sovereigns who looked down 
upon us as we deliberately traversed the three hundred 
and fifty feet which forms the circuit of the gallery. 
These pictures are set in as panels along the walls, one 
full-length portrait alternating with a vertical row of 
three burets. Of all, Eobert the Bruce, the Jameses, 
and Mary Stuart are most striking ; the first, for his 
powerful frame and commanding eye; the second, for 
their close resemblance in feature and expression ; the 
last, for her marvelous beauty. Oh ! it was too sad to 
look upon that fair head and remember that it was so 
rudely severed from the beautiful body. At the 
farther extremity of the hall are two double paintings 
bearing the date of 1484. One of these represents the 
Holy Trinity — the Father in the form of a healthful, 
robust, and moderately intellectual-looking Scotch- 
man; the Son, just as he was taken from the Cross, 
pale and stiff in death, is held in the Father's arms ; 
the Holy Spirit, as a dove, nestles between them. 
Such abominable sacrilege shocked me and marred my 
enjoyment of the remaining fifty kings. Before leav- 



LETTER THEEE. 59 

ing the room, we sat down to get a comprehensive 
view of it. Once a year it is thrown open for the 
levees given in honor of the Lord High Commissioner 
to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland ; 
and then I suppose those two highly-polished grates, 
one at each end of the east side, throw out a genial 
warmth and glow which the forty windows on the 
west catch up and show to the world without. Now, 
don't imagine these windows, like those of modern 
dwellings, extend from ceiling to floor with propor- 
tional width, for they are high up, narrow, and com- 
posed of small panes. The smooth, uncarpeted floor 
must be the delight of dancers, and many a time has 
it resounded to their merry feet. 

*' Step into this room next," said our guide, *' Lord 
Dariiley's Audience Chamber." 

On the wall you see three pieces of ancient 
tapestry, all wrought by hand. The design consists 
of cupids gathering luscious looking grapes, making 
soap bubbles, turning somersaults, and performing 
other antics. The colors are very much faded 
now, and, but for careful darning, it would not 
hang together; yet even in its present condition you 
may imagine how much of elegance it must have 
given to a room. 

" That," said he, pointing to a handsome portrait, 
*« is the lady who used to take off people's heads 
if they didn't suit her. A very nice looking face 
she has, but she looks at you out of the corners of 
her eyes — always a bad sign." 



60 EDIlSrBORO. 

Sure enough it was bloody Mary, and his comments 
were quite just. 

"This fire-screen of crimson velvet, embroidered 
with gold, was the handiwork of Henrietta, wife of 
Charles I. She wasn't lazy, you see." 

'* What is this piece of furniture?" asked Kate. 

"A table presented to Mary Stuart by Elizabeth. 
Pity they had not remained friends. Very old it is, 
but it would bear the weight of a fine goose yet, I dare 
say. That quaint looking cabinet over there was a 
gift from Douglas more than three centuries ago." 

Turning to the left, we enter a room built by Charles 
n., and arrange our hat by the very mirror that once 
reflected his powdered curls. 

" They do say it makes ladies handsomer to look in 
that glass," said our guide. 

We looked long and lingeringly, hoping to see the 
transformation begin ; but alas ! nothing came but dis- 
appointment. More tapestry adorned these walls, 
having for its subject Constantine's vision of the 
Cross, and his subsequent contest with Maxentius. 
Returning now to the audience chamber and crossing 
to an opposite door, we enter Lord Darnley's bed- 
room, which contains among others a portrait of him- 
self, a tall, gawkish, homely youth, a poor match for 
the lovely Mary. A door to the right leads to Queen 
Mary's private stair. The stone steps, hollowed out 
by innumerable foot-prints, are only wide enough for 
one person at a time. Up this dark, narrow winding 



LETTER THREE. 61 

way went the murderers of Eiccio, and it seemed well 
fitted to encourage their design. Turning away from 
this narrow passage, we ascended to Mary's suite by 
the broader stair-way. The first room is the audience 
chamber, where the stern and fearless Knox so often 
reproved her and aroused her anger. The beds, grate, 
sofa, and chairs are those used by the unfortunate 
Charles I. The curtains of embossed velvet seem 
ready to drop to pieces under their own weight ; the 
spread, of once white silk, ornamented with patches 
of needlework, in colors, was no doubt magnificent ; 
but the whole is so defaced by time, it is a more suit- 
able resting place for rats than royalty. The chairs, 
whose cushions might have once tempted to repose, 
are arranged in a row and inclosed by a chain, lest 
some visitor should inadvertently seat himself upon 
them and reduce them to atoms. The next apartment 
is Mary's bed-room, where still remains her bed; her 
diminutive mirror, which refuses to reflect a homelier 
face ; her work-box, in which are some specimens of 
her embroidery ; and a little basket which held the 
baby-clothes of James VI. Half hidden by the tapes- 
try is the little door through which the conspirators 
made their way to the tiny supping-room adjoin- 
ing, where Riccio was slain. The room which wit- 
nessed this tragedy is not more than ten feet square; 
but to banquet in there only her intimate friends were 
invited. Returning now to the court, we next came 
upon the royal chapel, the oldest part of the building, 



62 EDINBORO. 

and so demolished by time, fire and ignorant architects, 
that it is but a roofless, altarless ruin. 

*' Beneath that window yonder at the eastern 
extremity knelt Mary Queen of Scotts to become the 
bride of Darnley," said the inevitable picture dealer 
who presided in this realm. 

The ornaments of this window, the massive arch 
of the western gateway, the altar-like tomb of Vis- 
count Belhaven, the one remaining row of clustered 
columns, mutely attest the former magnificence of 
this ancient place of royal devotions, marriages, and 
burials. Passing around to the opposite side of the 
quadrangle, we saw through the window a group tak- 
ing tea ; for this part of the palace is yet occupied. 

''Really, I must have something to eat and a 
moment's rest before going further," said Kate, as 
we came out. 

*' Very well, let's find a restaurant. Ah ! here's one 
just across the street." 

Surely so near the palace we ought to find a 
queenly repast, thought we, as we ordered lunch. 
Mary's picture hung on the wall, and we exag- 
gerated into tapestry the plaid flannel covering of a 
wardrobe in the waiting-room. The tray was finally 
brought in, and we tried to imagine the stale bread, 
the wooden egg-cups, the Esau-like butter, the coarse- 
grained sugar quite in keeping with royal usage. 
Every glance at the butter revealed some new element 
of its composition, and called for renewed efibrts to 



LETTER THREE. - 63 

repress our laughter ; for we were determined to take 
everything good-humoredly. Eefreshed by our rest, 
if not by our tea, we boldly started out in search of 
new adventures. We followed the Queen's Drive, 
which extends south of the palace and the adjoining 
park, south of Holyrood Place, where hundreds of 
boys assemble to play bail ; past St. Margaret's Well, 
past St. Anthony's Chapel, then circles the whole 
cluster of hills of which Arthur's Seat, a huge, rough, 
barren rock, is the crowning point. We were glad to 
see at the well a number of the Canongate children, 
peeping through the grate at the water trickling down. 
They seemed to enjoy the novelty of the spectacle. 
The chapel consisted of only one wall, so we didn't go 
in. Just here there arose a slight difference of opinion 
between my brother and myself. 

"I tell you. Sis, this road will take us to Arthur's 
Seat," for we proposed ascending that height. 

" Yes, but the guide book says to go further on to 
that turn yonder, and I intend to follow the book.'* 

" Very well, I am going this way." 

So I went on alone, occasionally glancing back at 
them until they were momentarily lost in the valley. 
I quickened my pace and soon reached the turn, 
where only a tiny goat-path, and that very steep, 
led towards the hill-top. However, several persons 
were in view running down the mountain towards this 
point ; so I thought I must be right. Up, up, I went, 
pausing ever and anon to pluck a daisy or a buttercup, 
and to regain my breath as well. But how now? I've 



64 EDINBOEO. 

lost sight of Arthur's Seat. Is it to the right-hand 
or the left? I knew brother was within hearing dis- 
tance; but I disdained to call. 

" Please, sir, tell me how to get to Arthur's Seat," 
I said to a youth who was loitering behind me. 

" Beg pardon," said he, by which a Scotchman 
means, "I don't understand you." 

I repeated my request. 

" Oh, you'll never get to it from here ; this is the 
worst route you could have taken." 

*' Yes, but I must get there." 

.** Well, shall I go along and show you the way ? " 

*' Why, yes, if you are going there.'* 

" Oh ! I wasn't going any where in particular; but 
was led this way by the sight of a young lady." 

"Very well, proceed — I'll follow." 

He obeyed, at first silently, then turningsaid: 

"You be from the north of Scotland, now don't 
you?" " 

"No, sir, do I look like a Highland lassie? I'm 
from America." 

" From America ! " and he stood still with amaze- 
ment. " Why you don't talk like a Yankee ! " 

I laughed, and assured him we Western girls ac- 
knowledge no such title. After musing awhile, he 
said. 

" I should like to go to America, but not to stay. 
It's so dangerous to live there. If a man gets a spite 
at you, he will slip up on you and shoot you down any 
time and nobody says a word." 



LETTER THREE. 65 

** Oh, you are mistaken ; we have laws and have 
them enforced, too." 

*' Do you, now? '* said he wonderingly. "I would 
like to see New York City, Niagara, go across to San 
Francisco on that Pacific Eailroad, and visit Yose- 
mite." 

"You'd better go next year to the Centennial." 

" Oh I my folks wouldn't let me, you know its so 
far." 

"Not so very," I answered. 

Just then we came within sight of brother and Kate 
climbing the adjacent hill. 

" Yonder's brother now," I said. 

"Your brother! is your brother with you?" he 
inquired, in consternation. " Will he knock me down 
for speaking to you? " 

" No ; he will thank you for showing me the way." 

" Do gentlemen in America speak to ladies they do 
not know? " 

" Only under extraordinary circumstances, such as 
the present." 

Eeassured he went a few steps further, then turned 
upon me another incredulous look. 

" Why, you are like a girl I know.*' 

"A Scotch girl?" 

" Yes. You're not at all like an American girl." 

" What are they like? " I inquired, much amused 
at his boyish candor. 

" They are all so sallow^ so thin and delicate. 
Hadn't I better help you up this steep place? " 
5 



66 EDINBOEO. 

** No, thank you. I'll prove to you American girls 
are not so wanting in physical strength as you imag- 
ine." 

" I think not, if you're a specimen.** 

He chatted away quite freely now, telling me how 
his near-sightedness prevented his being a soldier, and 
he was thus compelled to study law, etc. By this 
time brother was perched on Arthur's Seat, leveling 
his field-glass at us, 

"There! I'd better go back. Your brother is 
studying my physiognomy and preparing to give me a 
caning." 

The little fellow was really frightened at his prox- 
imity to one of those dreaded Americans ; but I again 
told him there was no danger. Of course, I was very 
much ridiculed by my friends for my easy route; 
but I had gotten enough amusement to pay for the 
walk. My escort was standing uneasily aloof with 
his back toward us. 

" Go, brother, and thank the gentleman for direct- 
ing me." 

I had intended to christen him Rob Roy in return 
for calling me a Highland lass, but he and brother 
became so well acquainted as to exchange cards and 
thus spoil the romance. What think you, was on that 
card? Mark Twain was never so shocked at " Bill- 
finger" as was I at the John Cruikshank so delicately 
inscribed on the enameled surface. 

The view from Arthur's Seat is grand. All Edin- 
burgh is spread out at your feet ; the sea and firth 



LETTER FOUR. 67 

in the distance mingle their blue with that of the sky ; 
Salisbury Plain, just now enlivened by a party of red- 
coats shooting at targets, belts the mountain on the 
steepest side. As we went down, two or three shep- 
herds began to wind their horns, each seeming a 
responsive echo to the other, and I felt that this was 
indeed the Scotland of my dreams. 

But our waiting at Leith is over. The North Star 
begins to move out, and I must go up for a farewell 
glance at Edinboro and Arthur's Seat. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER IV. 



North Sea, June 25th, 1875. 

Dear Brother South : 

LITTLE German girl has taught me to say, "I'm 
going to write a letter to my sweetheart," and 
now I will impress upon my mind this first German 
lesson by a practical illustration. We have been since 
Wednesday on board the North Star, and are now 
within a few miles of land. We had dreaded this 
passage, for it is proverbially stormy ; but we are 
continually blessed. We never saw the Atlantic so 
unruffled as this water has been ; its hue seems bor- 



68 NORTH SEA. 

rowed from the sky, and its foam from the light fleecy 
clouds, which on a summer's day, float so lazily in the 
blue. During our^hole Atlantic voyage, we watched 
vainly for one unclouded sunset, but yesterday after- 
noon our desire to witness this spectacle was gratified. 
As the sun reached the horizon, it seemed converted 
into a ball of reddish, golden flame, and the instant the 
rim of its disk touched the far-away water's edge, a 
mermaid seemed to start from the breast of each wave- 
let to light her evening lamp by its glow. We, a few 
minutes before, had finished re-reading Lady of the 
Lake, and, when the sun and the sea-nymphs had alike 
hidden themselves in the deep, we began involuntarily 
humming Auld Lang Syne. From this we proceeded 
to another, and another old familiar tune, till " Sweet 
Bye-and-by " found its turn. The first time you 
ever came to our house you sang that song, so I never 
hear it but I think of you. The next moment *' Home 
Sweet Home " was ringing in my soul, and I began to 
realize how far from that dear spot I was wandering. 
The Scotch are so like our own people that we did not 
feel lonely with them, but Germany, T am sure, will 
be vastly diiferent. Indeed, we feel that now, for 
almost all our fellow-passengers are German. The 
gentlemen keep themselves entirely aloof from the 
ladies, while even the latter seem little inclined to 
sociability. Two of them, I learn, are teachers in 
English families. One of them showed me yesterday 
the bright gold pieces she has earned by last year's 
labors. They amounted to twenty pounds (one hun- 



LETTER FOUR. 69 

dred dollars) minus the fare from Leith to Hamburg. 
We told her she could get better pay than that in 
America. 

"Yes; but I don't want to go to America," she 
said; "I'd like to go to San Francisco, though, where 
my brother is." 

She is the German girl who taught me the 
German sentence. She says I can soon learn the 
language, and I hope it may prove true. I shall 
apply myself very diligently, for I wish to make the 
year profitable. We are told that such green foreign- 
ers as ourselves, are likely to be robbed, and other- 
wise maltreated at Hamburg. I'll let you know about 
that to-morrow. 

June 27th. — Yesterday morning, we awoke to find 
ourselves in the Eiver Elbe, having left the sea in the 
night. Before breakfast was over, the boat stopped 
at the wharf. 'I was not sorry, nor yet especially glad to 
leave this ship. There were no friends with whom to 
part ; but neither was there one to greet us on the 
land. Even my little German girl forgot to say 
good-by, so great was her joy to be once more 
in her fatherland. She had said to me, the evening 
before — 

"I know I shall feel like kissing the very sands at 
Hamburg. Just to think, I shall be once more with 
my own people to speak German, and hear it spoken 
all the time." 

I told her I was surprised at her enthusiasm, that I 



70 HAMBURG. 

had supposed the Germans a phlegmatic, undemons- 
trative race. 

*'Ah ! that's a mistake ! We Germans say less than 
we feel ; while the French feel less than they say." 

I said there were no good-bys ; but it would be 
unpardonable ingratitude to leave unmentioned young 
Dr. T. P. A. Stuart, and Prof. McLuckie. By their 
help we found our way to the Berlin and Dresden 
Railway station. They were both from Scotland 
bound for Braunsweig, the former to study the lan- 
guage, the latter to meet his daughter who is there 
engaged in study. Their train was not to start till 
11:20; so Dr. S. declared his intention to see some- 
thing of the city. 

" Please to show me the way to the bank mentioned 
in my letter of credit," requested brother. 

*' With pleasure," and the honest Scotch face 
attested the truth of his response. 

Kate and I accompanied them, and were much 
amused at the Doctor's, pouncing upon every 
, fellow he met that he might practice upon him 
his stock of German. We came at length upon 
a beautiful shady avenue running along an artifi- 
cial lake. Kate said she would rather rest 
there than to proceed farther. Eeluctantly I assented 
and was Just growing interested in the passers-by, 
when Mr. Mc. returned to us. They had concluded to 
hasten back to the depot by a shorter route. We went 
to the bank where brother was still detained, and 
waited for him at the entrance. 



LETTER FOUR. 71 

*' I think I must go," said Mr. Mc. nervously con- 
sulting his watch; "my daughter will be too much 
disappointed if I miss the train." 

*' Oh ! plenty of time I plenty of time !" reassur- 
ingly declared Dr. S. "We must not leave Dr. 
Lindsay," and he rushed back into the banking-office 
to hurry their operations. We almost flew back to 
the station, but it was no use. Before the custom- 
house officers were through with their baggage, the train 
left — left them to wait till three p. m. , while we would 
start at one. We expressed our regret ; but the viva- 
cious young man said he didn't care. 

"But think of my poor girl," said Prof . M., and 
his face visibly lengthened. 

"Never mind, I'll send her a telegram," and in a 
few minutes S. had prepared a bit of German composi- 
tion which tended to brighten up the father's face. I 
thought they would never want to see us again ; but 
before leaving, each gave us his card, and requested us 
to send them our address, when we become settled in 
Dresden. 

At one o'clock we were ready for our train. The 
conductor asked us, we knew not what; but we an- 
swered " Dresden." Upon this he pointed to one of 
the open doors along the side of the car, and into this 
we entered. We had for companions two of the 
natives, who kept jabbering and smoking by turns, 
resting our lungs at the expense of our ears. Kate 
complained of nausea produced by the smoke, but the 
supply of cigars seemed inexhaustible. I was asleep 



72 HAMBURG. 

as we came up the Elbe, so did not get to see the 
country on either bank. Turning to the open window, 
I escaped the smoke and enjoj^ed the view. A funny 
little village met my glance, its low, clumsy houses 
covered with tile, or thatched with straw, while within 
sight were half dozen wind mills of the most antique 
pattern. How lazily these mills do turn ! It would 
put me to sleep to watch them, and it seemed such 
had been their effect upon the inhabitants of the vil- 
lage : for I saw not a sign of life. Soon the village 
was gone, and, in its stead, appeared narrow strips of 
rye, grass, barley, and vegetables. On the grass 
herds of sheep were feeding under the watchcare of a 
boy and dog, lest they should wander away in the un- 
fenced country. In a few meadows they were making 
a sickly looking hay into very diminutive heaps — not 
enough in any one to feed a calf. In these hayfields 
there were chiefly women engaged. Not a solitary 
farm-house was to be seen, and I inferred that these 
were the villagers who leave their houses to take care 
of themselves in the daytime. An occasional strip of 
full blown scarlet poppies, and an occasional grove of 
pines, were all that broke the monotony of the hilless 
landscape. Our train halted but seldom, but at one 
place brother, said : — 

" I should like a drink, if I only knew how to as-k 
for it." 

" I'll ask for it for you," proffered one of our com- 
panions in quite good English. 

Kate winced a little at this, for under the impression 



LETTER FOUR. 73 

that she was not understood, she had expressed herself 
quite freely on the subject of German etiquette. As 
our friend lighted his next cigar, he observed: — 

'* I am sorry you got into the smoking-car. There 
are some in which smoking is not allowed." 

To repay us for the annoyance occasioned by his 
smoke, he assisted us in changing cars at Leipsic. 
He proved to be from Pennsylvania, and only on a 
visit to his childhood's home. 

Having left this old man at L., we were now en- 
tirely upon our own resources. It was with some mis- 
givings we neared the city of Dresden. Not one of 
the stupid foreigners could speak a civilized word ( !), 
and for us to reproduce their guttural sounds was alike 
impossible. But we were rejoiced to see our baggage 
precede us into the depot. The station-master pointed 
to the custom-house marks on our trunks. 

" He wants to examine them again," s^id brother, 
and he opened a valise. 

The man shook his head with an amused smile, and 
made other signs. 

"Your checks, Doctor; perhaps he wants your 
checks," suggested Kate. 

"Yah, yah," he said, and brother handed him the 
slips of paper with which to identify our baggage. 

He didn't know, when they were given him, just 
what they were for — thought they might be receipts 
for his passage money. 

*' Droschkie?" now inquired the man. 



74. DEESDEN. 

I had seen in my guide-book that word for cab, so I 
said yes by a nod of the head. A stalwart porter 
shouldered our trunks, one at a time, and placed them 
on the cab, then opened the door that we might get 
inside. He continued to hold it open till brother took 
the hint, and put a coin in his hand. He turned the 
coin over with a dissatisfied grunt, which was easy to 
interpret. Brother added a second coin, with the un- 
gracious remark : — 

** I hope that's enough now.'* 

Each piece was marked ten pfennige, so we thought 
we had been terribly swindled; but we know now 
that the man realized only a cent apiece on each valise 
and trunk. Fortunately *' Victoria Hotel" is the 
same in German as in English, so our cabman in a few 
minutes deposited us in front of its well lighted 
entrance. They understood enough of English to 
know that a bed would' be the thing most desired by 
midnight travelers. Kate and I had congratulated 
ourselves that we could once more sleep together, 
instead of occupying separate berths, as we had 
to do on the steamers. Imagine, then, our chagrin 
when we found, instead of our American double 
beds, two single ones, on the same side of the room. 
They were white, soft, springy beds, though, and 
soon we were oblivious to the novelties of our sur- 
roundings. 

" Dora, don't you know this is Sunday morning, 
and there is church to go to ? " 



> LETTER FOUR. ' 75 

It was Kate's voice, and I opened my eyes wide 
enough to see that she was nearly dressed, and that the 
sun was pouring in at the window. 

"Well," said I, "if you want to go to hear a 
' Dutch ' sermon, you may go. For my part, I intend 
to make this a literal day of rest," and I was asleep 
again before I could hear her answer. 

It was quite ten by the time I was ready for break- 
fast. At the ring of our bell, a spruce looking 
waiter, in a swallow-tailed coat and white neck tie, 
came in with the coffee, rolls', and butter, which is the 
German idea of a full breakfast. It is now near the 
dinner hour, 4: 30 p. m., and I must suspend writing 
for the present. 

Well, we've been two hours at that table ! There 
were seven changes of plates : first, we had a course 
of salmon ; second, roast mutton and potatoes ; third, 
some unknown dish upon which I did not venture; 
fourth, boiled lobsters; fifth, stewed cherries; sixth, 
ice-cream and cake; seventh, strawberries not larger 
than currants. To while away the interval between 
changing plates, most of the guests were sipping wine. 
The grand finale came in the form of a spirit-lamp 
passed around that the gentlemen might light their 
cigars by its flame. The ladies seemed to enjoy the 
cloud of smoke 'which soon filled the dining-room; 
but, in the midst of it, we withdrew and sought the 
front door for a bit of fresh air. Just then, a gentle- 
man was passing with a lady on his arm, and, at the 



76 • DRESDEN. 

same time with a lighted cigar in his mouth. Go 
where we will, in this country, we must encounter 
tobacco .smoke. Etiquette seems nowhere to exclude 
it. But lest, by judging hastily, I do injustice to 
these people, I shall defer further comment on their 
manners. 

Our coming on to Dresden instead of going to Ber- 
lin, has hindered us in getting our mail; but I do not 
doubt you have written, hence shall send this on. It 
will go to-morrow to Hamburg; Wednesday will start 
to Leith, Scotland ; and. about the following Wednes- 
day will leave Glasgow for New York. It may be 
shipwrecked and you may imagine I have forgotten 
you ; but I send it with the prayer that, as I have been 
brought safely over, so may this reach you. I dreamed 
the other night that you were sici?: and that I was going 
to see you; I don't know which predominated, sorrow 
at your illness, or joy at the expected meeting.' A 
whole year is a long, long time; but such separation 
only draws our hearts nearer together and will thus 
add to our future happiness. Now a good-by to you. 
Yours, 

EUDORA. 



LETTER FIVE. 77 



LETTER V. 



Dresden, Saxony, July 11, 1875. 

Dear Brother Graham: 

J[r|F the days of genii were not past, I would greatly 
^ abbreviate my evening's task by bidding my 
special attendant to furnish you instant transportation 
to this place. I would have you blindfolded and entirely 
ignorant of your destination until you were safely 
deposited on that comfortable sofa across the room. 

" Where am I? " would be your mental query, and 
your eyes would search around for an answer. " Not 
in America, surely, for we do not paint our floors 
having only a rug of Brussels for the table and 
chairs. And what is that in the corner? It looks some- 
thing like a Dutch clock, only it is broader in front, 
and instead of their dark color it is white. " 

On nearer examination, however, you see the medal- 
lion about half way up, which you mistook for a dial, 
is merely an ornament matching the plaster of Paris 
finish at the top. If you have now sufficient curiosity 
to walk over near it, you may discover two small 
iron doors not far from the bottom. Open these, as I 
did, and the mystery is solved. One door opens upon 
a grate for receiving coal, the lower one upon a pan 



78 DEESDEN. 

for catching the cinders. This elegant piece of furni- 
ture, built of brick and covered with porcelain, answers 
the place of our stoves and grates. Peep now, through 
the foldino; doors of the sittino;-room, into the little 
bed-chambers, and be further convinced by the narrow 
single beds that you are in a foreign country ; then, 
draw aside the lace curtains of that south window, raise 
the blind, open the window itself as you would a fold- 
ing door, and get a breath of fresh air. Very pure is 
the air, for only a few blocks separate us from the 
fields of rye you may see in the background. But 
what is there peculiar in the surroundings? Don't you 
see that large square-built house on the right? Don't 
you see it is three-story except at the four corners 
which rise one story higher? Look up the street and 
down and you will find many a match to this substan- 
tial, but by no means beautiful, piece of architecture.. 
Don't be deceived into believing them built of stone 
though, for they are only of brick artfully covered 
with plaster. I thought, the other morning, that I had 
found one loooden building, but what was apparently 
weathei'-boarding proved to be an imitation in plaster. 
But don't you see, too, the gardens attached to every 
house? Those maples, locusts, acanthi, cherries, and 
eims you recognize, but you can not apj^rove the taste 
which fills the grounds so closely with these that you 
can not get a glimpse of the grass, if there is any below. 
You know, from the fragrance in the air, that there 
are roses about, and indeed, they abound on every side ; 
but their natural grace is destroyed by the attempt to 



LETTER FIVE. 79 

make trees of them, Of coarse the stem is too weak 
to support itself erect, so it is bound to a stiff, upright 
pole, after having been trimmed till there is only a 
small crest of flowering branches left. What of beauty 
is thus lost by the bush as a whole is, however, gained 
by the individual blossoms, in that their fragrance is 
increased tenfold. In fact, as you look at these roses, 
you will be reminded of the difference between the 
grape vine, when allowed to follow its own inclinations, 
and the same vine when made a restrained occupant of 
a vineyard. You will also see in every garden one or 
more summer-houses almost concealed by the, over- 
hanging trees and closely-clinging creepers. 

I would have you thus brought over about 6 :15 a. m., 
for at that hour we would all be out taking our morn- 
ing walk, and you would have the pleasure of making 
these observations, and concluding for yourself that 
nowhere but in Germany could such uniform stiffness 
be found in combination with attempted elegance. 
Your meditations would likely be interrupted by the 
entrance of Ernestina with a basin of water, a mop 
and a little dusting broom. The round-faced lassie 
would not stare at you impudently, neither would she 
utter a scream at the unexpected apparition ; but hum- 
bly getting down upon her knees, she would fulfill her 
daily task by mopping up every particle of dust from 
the painted floor. The little broom she uses to brush 
the three yards square of carpet, the short handle com- 
[)elling her to bend over almost double. This is an 



80 DRESDEN. 

illustration of the needless expenditure of physical 
power so common in Germany. They need a Yankee 
genius to teach them a few labor-saving lessons. 
Ernestina, however, knows nothing of patent long- 
handled, self-acting brooms, so you will see her work 
away with patient good humor until, just in the very 
nick of time, just as we make our appearance upon the 
scene, she is ready to spread our breakfast on the tiny 
table in our sitting-room. After your long journey I 
fear your keen appetite will pronounce this rather a 
scanty meal; but let any German be the judge, and 
he will tell you that the addition of meat or eggs to the 
butter, rolls and coffee, is a piece of American extrava- 
gance. As Ernestina did not know you were to 
breakfast with us, we must send her back for three 
more biscuits, two more eggs, another piece of meat, 
two more lumps of sugar, another urn of coffee, and 
another bit of cream, for with such nicety does the. 
German housekeeper calculate the extent of our appe- 
tites, that she sends in not a fragment beyond what is 
accessary for us three. It is well you didn't bring your 
pet canary, for she could never live upon the crumbs 
which fall from our table. In the way of table con- 
versation, I think we would entertain you with ques- 
tions about Lexington, about Hocker College, about 
the University, about Bro. McGarvey's last sermon, 
etc. At eight we would have to excuse ourselves from 
talking with you, for at nine Prof. Eudolph comes to 
hear our German lesson, and it is not yet thoroughly 



LETTER FIVE. 81 

prepared. What shall you do with yourself? Well, I 
advise you to take a walk up that western avenue, 
shaded so beautifully with linden trees. 

The trees are all in bloom, and men are gather- 
ing many of the blossoms. Our landlady says : — 

'* Dey makes tea fum de blumen, vich make you 
transpire ven you are sick, and den you gets veil." 

You will fiad sufficient variety for an hour's amuse- 
ment. Here you will pass the mansion of a prince, 
with its grounds laid out according to the standard of 
German taste ; there you will come upon a beer gar- 
den with its long vine-clad arbors sheltering the con- 
vivial tables and expectant chairs. Here you meet 
a schoolboy whistling merrily despite the knapsack of 
books strapped across his shoulders, there you 
encounter a washerwoman, who, after bending all day 
yesterday and the day before over the tub and the 
ironing-table, is now bending under the weight of the 
huge basket of clothes on her back. By her side trots 
her little three-year-old, likewise stooping under the 
burden of an infant basket, which one might mistake 
for a deformity inherited from the mother. Poor 
child ! each year her basket must grow larger, and she 
will never know what it is to stand freely erect. But 
at Hamburg I saw women more heavily laden than this 
one. Instead of one basket they had two or three 
suspended to each end of a kind of beam which rested 
upon the back of the neck. 

But this road is every morning frequented by milk- . 
maids. You'll know them by their bright pink 
6 



82 DRESDEN. 

sacques, bright blue aprons, and short skirts, dirty 
hose and shapeless slippers. The poets always talk 
about the milkmaid "tripping o'er the mead;" but 
the labored strides of this one does not accord with my 
idea of tripping. But she must needs walk thus, for 
she has not a single pail jauntily balanced, but she and 
her dog in double harness are pulling a wagon, in whose 
bed of wicker-work are a dozen heavy cans. The 
canine half of the team is taking his task very much 
at his ease, merely trotting along beside the woman. 
Further on you meet a boy and a dog, and this time 
Tray has his match. The boy makes him do all the 
pulling, urging him along at every step. Even a 
German boy is sharp enough to get out of work. If 
you are as fortunate as we usually are, you'll see 
many another novel turnout. For instance, a man 
and a mule is a frequent combination ; a horse working 
alone on one side of a wagon tongue is by no means 
a rare arrangement. In fact, I infer that horses are 
scarcer in this country than are men and women. 

You will find it time to return before you think of 
being weary; but I must have jt'ou here to see our 
teacher enter the door and make his bow. His bow- 
ing seems to be done by rule, for every time he calls 
in play the self-same muscles. He places his feet 
close together, throws back his shoulders, draws up 
his slight form to its full height, then, having attained 
the desired stiffness, he brings forward his head with a 
spasmodic jerk ; first toward me, then making a pivot 
of his heels, he confers upon each occupant of the 



LETTER FIVB. 83 

room the same honor. We have a large easy chair 
(just such a one as you would like) and, on the first 
morning, placed it beside the table for his use ; but he 
asked us to give him instead a straight-backed affair 
which can never tempt him to relax his self-supporting 
attitude. Now don't smile at his manners, for in so 
doing you display ignorance of the German standard 
of etiquette. Prof. K. is a model gentleman and if 
you observe him through the two hours' lesson, jou. 
will see him display a well trained intellect and a fine 
capacity for imparting instruction. To be sure, 
you will see a little hesitation once in a while, as he 
searches for an English word to express his idea, but I 
have learned to sympathize with one under such cir- 
cumstances. He is never at a loss for criticisms on 
our manuscripts, however, nor is he less careful in cor- 
rectmg a false account. You may count the mistakes 
we make by watching his shoulders; for at every one 
he raises them as if to shield his ears from the grating 
sound. I was rather amused at a conversation between 
Prof. R. and a specimen of Young America who 
boards in this same house. The latter has command 
of every untranslatable slang phrase with which our 
language is becoming corrupted. 

** Did you see the royal parties that were in town 
yesterday, the Czar of Russia, the King and Queen 
of Sweden, with their attendants?" asked the Pro- 
fessor. 

*' Oh ! yes," said Mr. P. 



84 DRESDEN. 

" Did you notice with what dignity and grace the 
Queen of Sweden took her seat in her carriage? All 
the ladies friskily hopped into their carriages, and 
plumped themselves down on the seats in a very com- 
mon place way ; but she" — 

" Oh ! she regularly ohsquatulatedf** interrupted Mr. 
P. 

" Sir; what did you say? " and the cultivated Ger- 
man mentally ransacked his vocabulary of English 
words, in the vain search for the elegant term. 

"I saw Vic, down in Italy," boastingly said P. 

"Vic? who's that?" 

" Why, don't you know Vic? Vic — Victor Eman- 
uel." 

*' Oh ! yes, I know he is very partial towards Ameri- 
cans, always pleased to converse with them; but that 
is true of nearly all European sovereigns." 

" Well, say? I want a Dutch Duchess to take home 
with me, where can I get one? " 

"You'll have to go to Holland for that, though 
you can find many a duchess at our watering-places 
who can not afford to keep so much as a single bugg}''. 
In fact, we are now becoming very indifferent to such 
titles. The time has come for Germany when ' a man 
is a man ' and no mere prefix of ' count ' or ' prince ' can 
purchase otherwise unmerited respect." 

" Why I thought you all had plenty of money here; 
but you stick as close to a dollar as anybody. What 
has become of all those French napoleons?" 



LETTER FIVE. 85 

" The people have never received a penny of that. 
It is in the treasury to be kept ready for war pur- 
poses." 

*' Eh 1 a kind of a nest egg, is it? " 

*' Mr. R. does not understand such expressions," I 
interposed. 

*' No, Miss, I do not ; but, as I said, we are poor, 
and for that reason we are far behind America. We 
do not so understand forming corporations as the 
Yankees do. We tried it once, and made a perfect 
faihire — will not try again." 

" What makes you keep so many soldiers idling 
around? You had better save the money it costs to 
clothe and feed them." 

" Oh ! you know not what you say. Break up our 
army ? Why France would be upon us at once I As 
it is now, in twenty-four hours, we can have one mill- 
ion men under arms and on their way to the field of 
action." 

But I had forgotten we were reciting a lesson in 
your hearing. Let us suppose the recitation closed, 
and the two hours' study between that and dinner 
likewise passed. You may rejoice that we are not at 
a hotel, to be tormented with an infinite number of 
courses which take away your appetite, and waste 
your precious time. This boarding house was recom- 
mended to us by Mr. Mil ward, of Lexington, as the 
only place in Europe where he had found anything 
homelike. 



86 DRESDEN. 

Miss S.,our landlady, gives us our wonted meals at 
our wonted hours, Kate has even taught her how to 
make American pies. She has learned to cut them into 
even six pieces, which are just enough to go around. 
The other day. Miss S., who is a maiden lady of 
uncertain age, had a beau. He came near dinner time, 
and she soon told him he must go home, for she hadn't 
enough pie to share with him. 

"I'll give him half of my piece," was the gener- 
ous of offer of Mr. P. 

Sure enough the ardent widower remained, and when 
the pie was passed to him he refused to take an entire 
sixth. But Miss S.'s heart for once got the better of 
her appetite. 

«'Take it all, Mr. G.," she said, "I will eat the 
half slice." 

Of course, such close living is rather a trial to us, 
but as our rooms are kept so tidy and we have enough 
to eat, we are quite content. Moreover, Miss S. 
speaks only a broken English, and will make us begin 
as soon as possible to use our German. Address us in 
care of Miss M. Schuster, No. 1 Wiener Strass, Dres- 
den, Saxony. 

Yours truly, 

EUDORA. 



LETTEE SIX. 87 



LETTER VL 



Dresden, July 18, 1876. 

Dear Brother South: 

iJ^JTE. P. is in here " gassing" about what '* I did 
^f^J^ down in Italy ;" but I do not enjoy such con- 
versation on Sunday, so I will write awhile to see if 
he will not take the hint to go to his own room. 
Perhaps you may think it strange that, as it is Sunday 
morning, we are not at church. Well, it was our 
intention to go, but just as I began to get ready, Kate 
concluded she was unable to walk so far. We went, 
yesterday afternoon out to the " Grosze Garten," a 
full half hour's walk, and I suppose it was a little too 
much for her. She is so full of energy that it is hard 
for her to estimate her strength properly. The only 
safe way is to refuse to go with her, when she pro- 
poses too great an undertaking, and this I liave done 
sometimes when I was really anxious to go myself. 
Yesterday, however, I formed a new acquaintance, 
who promises to be my companion hereafter. It was 
the wife of our teacher. According to the German 
custom, which requires a stranger to call first upon the 
residents, Kate and I went up to see her one after- 
noon last week. We have rooms at the head of the 



88 DRESDEN. 

first flight of steps in this four-story mansion ; while 
Mrs. Rudolph occupies those at the head of the second 
flight. We told Prof. R., at the close of our morning 
lesson, that Mrs. R. might expect us in the afternoon. 
We donned a street costume, hat, gloves, and all, as if 
we were going down town instead of simply upstairs. 
Our landlady told us this was the proper thing to do, 
and also to take cards as if we had not sent her word 
we were coming. These cards we have procured since 
coming to Dresden, and had our names printed upon 
them ; because Prof. R. said it would be considered bad 
taste to get them blank and write the names ourselves. 
Mrs. R. received us with timid cordiality and con- 
versed with us in perfect English. She was for five 
years previous to her marriage a teacher in England, 
and is quite intelligent. She has a warmth and ani- 
mation in her manner which is quite congenial to me. 

Well, she returned our call and then made an 
engagement to walk with us yesterday afternoon. 
There is a double advantage in going with her ; she can 
tell us much about the places we visit, and besides, 
she speaks German to me all the time. When I do 
not understand her remarks, she patiently repeats and 
translates for me, then makes me say it after her. I 
can learn as much in my walks with her, as in my 
morning recitations, so I was very grateful yesterday, 
when she pressed my hand at parting, and said: 
*' I will go with you anytime that you send me word.*' 

Don't think now I intend to neglect Kate for this new 
friend. A physician can better take care of an invalid, 



LETTER SIX. 89 

and ander brother's ministrations, she neither needs 
nor misses me. Indeed, I have, more than once, 
experienced that peculiar loneliness consequent upon 
being the " third party." Mrs. E,. has been married 
but a short time, and I feared other society than that 
of her husband might prove irksome to her; but she, 
too, occasionally feels herself a " third party." Her 
husband is an enthusiastic student; his books archer 
rivals. He shuts himself up in his library with them ; 
while she sits demurely by her work-table in her own 
room, with his silent photograph upon a little easel 
beside her. This being the case, you see I can confer 
as much benefit as I receive. 

She told me yesterday a little incident which shows 
how the lower class of Germans are wont to treat a 
lady. She was informed that her mother, who lives 
in another part of the city, was quite ill, so she 
ordered a *' bus " to call by to take her there. She 
was first to enter the vehicle, and finding it very close, 
she attempted to raise a window. Unluckily, in the 
attempt the sash fell out, and went crashing to the 
pavement. A crowd instantly assembled to inquire 
into the nature of the disaster. The driver came in, 
stared at her, shrugged his shoulders, but remained 
silent. Shortly after the conductor entered, and in a 
pompous tone, demanded: — 

<' Who broke that window?" 

" She did," said an impertinent fellow, pointing at 
Mrs. E. 



90 ^ DRESDEN. 

"Yes sir," said the lady in a pleading tone, "I 
had scarcely touched it when it fell to the ground." 

*' Well, no matter about that, ma'am, you must pay 
for it all the same." 

" How much? " 

" Twenty-five groschen (sixty-seven and a half 
cents"). 

" I have not so much in my purse," replied Mrs. R. 
" At what office shall I leave the amount? " 

"How do I know that you would ever leave it," 
said the man; "anybody that can't afford to carry 
twenty-five groschen in her purse can hardly be 
trusted." 

At this insult Mrs. R. burst into tears, and in des- 
peration drew off her precious wedding-ring and gave 
it to the brute as a pledge. As if mollified by this, he 
assumed a more respectful tone and said : — 

" Well, never mind, madam, you needn't call at the 
office ; I will come to your house to-morrow for the 
money." 

She was far from heeding this, however, for 
she felt sure he intended to cheat her; and, sure 
enough, when she went to the office she found the 
charge was only twenty groschen. So you see there 
are a few ruffians and extortioners who have not yet 
emigrated to America. 

We received a call yesterday from our Scotch friend, 
to whom we caused such a disappointment at Ham- 
burg. His daughter was with him, but in her soft 



LETTER SIX. 91 

brown eyes was not a shadow of that disappointment. 
Mr. McLuckie has charge of a school in Stirling, 
Scotland, and his daughter is finishing her education in 
Germany, that she may be prepared to assist him. She 
is to remain here in Dresden all winter, teaching En- 
glish, while studying German, French, painting, and 
music. It is quite a pleasure to thus form acquaint- 
ances ; it is such a relief to recognize one among the 
infinite number of faces encountered on the street. 
The first whom I recognized thus on the street, was 
our teacher, and so eager was I to enjoy the privilege 
of speaking to him, that I bowed before he had time 
to lift his hat. For this breach of German etiquette, 
he afterwards reproved me, saying, that in this coun- 
try, none but a princess ever bows first to a gentleman. 
This information relieved my chagrin ; for any Amer- 
ican lady is as good as a princess. The customs here 
are, in many respects, different from our own. Miss 
Schuster says that no young lady ever receives calls 
from a gentleman till after they are engaged, and then 
only in the presence of her mother. Neither is any 
written communication permissible. Miss S. saw the 
address of my last letter to the President, and said : — 

"Eh, little girl, writing to a gentleman? Is he your 
bridegroom?" 

Now 1 had learned that in German the terms 
** bride" and " bridegroom " are applied to a couple 
who are simply betrothed, so I hastened to assure 
Miss. S. that I am not engaged. 



92 DRESDEN. 

'*Dea vy do you vear dat golt ring on de third 
finger? " 

I explained to her that in America, the engagement 
ring is worn on the first finger, and that I had never 
yet allowed one to be placed upon mine. 

" Oh ! den you mus' take it off. None ob de Saxon 
gentleman will look at you, if you wear dat." 

Despite this, however, I still continue to wear the 
ring, and shall risk making a false impression upon 
the Saxon youths so long as good letters from Frank- 
fort reach me promptly every week . The last one, 
dated June 24, came Monday, and was no less wel- 
come than the first. I believe I have written to you 
about once a week. I keep no account ; but when the 
desire to talk with you becomes irresistible, I bid my 
pen to perform that duty. Since beginning this, I 
have been several times interrupted. I stopped at the 
end of the second page to read with brother and Kate. 
We read together the seventy-first psalm, and fifteenth 
of First Corinthians then I read aloud to them a chapter 
from *' Communings in the Sanctuary," after which 
we sang two or three hymns. That brought on the 
dinner hour, and now I must stop to get ready for 
church at four. 

Eight o'clock p. m. Tea is just finished and Kate 
and brother have gone out for a Avalk ; but I prefer to 
stay at home with you. It was to the Royal Church we 
went this afternoon. This is Catholic, though, as you 
know, a large part of Germany is Lutheran 



LETTER SIX. 93 

There goes that street car again I It*s off the track 
again as usual, and there is as much excitement in the 
street as if the same thing had not occurred every day 
for the last six months, or more. I suppose there is 
some defect in the construction of the track, and there 
is no inventive genius to suggest a remedy. Of course 
the driver ought to slacken the speed of his horses as 
he approaches this treacherous turn ; but, instead of 
that, he urges them on at a quick pace, and crash ! go 
the wheels against the rough stones. He is always 
astonished at the result, and excitedly draws in his lines, 
while uttering the peculiar guttural sound which is the 
German substitute for our word *'WhoaI" It is a 
sound something like the croaking of a frog. My 
future reminiscences of Dresden must ever be associated 
with this street car, its driver, and the daily tugging 
and sweating by which it was replaced on the track. 

But I have a secret to tell you. It is something 
about Miss Schuster, and I have promised her not to 
tell Kate or brother ; but I must tell somebody. You 
know she is an old maid, and not very attractiv^e, at 
that. She says when she was young she had just such 
eyes as mine, and they are really not bad-looking now; 
but her mouth reminds one of the age of mammoths. 
She assures us she has had plenty of opportunities to 
marry, but never the right one yet. We were a little 
skeptical on this head; but, this week, she actually had 
a proposal. About the time we came here she formed 
the acquaintance of a jolly widower, who called at the 
suggestion of Mr. Mil ward. 



94 DEESDEN. 

** She is too ugly, " was his expressed conviction at 
the end of the first interview ; but he went home to his 
little unwashed daughters, and the fact that they were 
motherless overcame him. He came again and again 
till he ceased to think of the ugly mouth, which spread 
itself in welcoming smiles. Another idea took posses- 
sion of him. His present employment is keeping a 
small cigar store, but he longs for business on a larger 
scale. Fraulein Schuster's money would be the one 
thing needful to accomplish this end. Accordingly, on 
last Friday morning, he proposed to her in the most 
practical style. She, in a corresponding tone of the 
matter-of-fact, informed him that four children were 
rather a larger investment than she desired to make — 
in short, that he was talking nonsense. The refusal 
neither broke his heart nor destroyed his appetite; he 
ate his whole allowance at dinner. While eating, he 
said : — 

*« I take my children to de baker every morning to 
get dere pie. It is hard to have a house fall of chil- 
dren and no Frau to do for dem. " 

I asked Miss S. how she could resist his appeals. 

" Oh ! " she said, "I am not such a fool as he tinks. 
He vants my money, and I vill keep it myself. What 
could I do mit dem four little tipsy {gipsy) girls? I 
vould put dem von in each corner, and make dem stay 
dere. If dey vas like you, little girl, I would like to 
have dem. " 

Awhile ago, when I came from church, I found her 
in her room crying. 



LETTER SIX. 95 

"What is the matter, Miss Schuster?" I asked, 
' ' has any one offended you ? ' ' 

"No, no, my little girl, I have a deep problem — 
you never did have such a von. " 

Upon this I left, but at the tea-table I was surprised 
to find her eyes sparkling, till I was rather compli- 
mented at the thought of their resemblance to mine. 
She slipped into my hand a little scrap of paper 
on which was written, " A great happiness has come to 
me within the last hour. '* I was all curiosity to learn 
in what shape it had come, and, after the others with- 
drew, she told me. A gentleman, to whom she is 
devoted, and whom she had not seen since April, had 
sent to make an engagement for some time this week_ 

" Dat vas vat did make me cry, " she said, " and 
my tears did bring him. '* 

This begins to grow romantic, and I shall rather 
impatiently await the issue. Perhaps you may have a 
kindred feeling in regard to the termination of this 
letter, so good-by. 

Yours, 

EUDOEA. 



96 DKESDEN. 



LETTER VII. 



Dresden, July 27, 1875. 
Dear Brother Graham : 

two weeks ago I was deploring the fact that 
beautiful, swift- winged fairies, no longer attend 
us niaterial creatures; but, since then, as if to teach 
me that the age of wonders even yet exists, I have 
been admitted to a second Aladdin Palace. Repeat- 
edly since coming to Dresden the question has been 
asked : — 

"Have you been to the Green Vaults? " 

Until last Wednesday our answer was invariably — '■ 

'< Not yet." 

From the name we had pictured to ourselves a suc- 
cession of gloomy subterranean chambers with dismal 
rows of marble sarcophagi on either hand. We had 
imagined them full of a dampness which had probably 
settled in a green mould upon the vaulted ceiling. 
But some one corrected this impression. 

" They are not," said our informant, *♦ vaults for 
hiding away the dead, but, instead, eight elegant 
rooms painted in green and gold, in which are stored 
away the magnificent treasures collected by Saxon 
kings. It is a part of the castle — you have seen the 
castle? " 



LETTER SEVEN. 97 

•* No, we have seen nothing but the Zwinger.** 

" The Zwinger I Well, if you have been to the 
gallery, you have noticed, just opposite, a very irreg- 
ular, ungainly, misshapen cluster or semi-circle of 
buildings, beginning and terminating with a high-tow- 
ered church. The ugly, flat-roofed portion between 
the churches, contains a palace for the kings, barracks 
for the soldiers you meet every day on the street, to- 
gether with the eight rooms of which I speak." 

"What! do you mean to say the Germans build 
their castles on the level ground? How very unroman- 
tic." 

The fact is, we had noticed this row of many-win- 
dowed walls, and had thought it a pity for the grounds 
around the Zwinger to be occupied by such an unseemly 
structure. Our idea of castles we derived from Old 
Dumbarton, Stirling and Edinboro, frowning from 
their sublime heights upon the lower world. Elevation 
was, in our minds, an essential characteristic of a 
castle, hence the Castle of Dresden had escaped our 
recognition. But we have been taught once more the 
folly of judging from external appearances. 

On Wednesday morning, July 22, we applied for 
admission to these chambers. It was a cloudy, driz- 
zly day, and more sombre, less attractive than ever 
seemed the old castle. As usual here, we were dis- 
armed of our umbrellas at the entrance, had to pay two 
groschen for this unsought attention, then an addi- 
tional marc admitted us to the room of the Bronzes. 

We were far from being alone, for so dense a crowd 
7 



98 DRESDEN. 

was in advance of us that it was only by a considerable 
strugo-le we were able to cross the threshold. Then 
everybody had a catalogue, and everybody's catalogue 
tells him to look first at the groups or statues on the 
right ; but by the time everybody had turned to the 
right, there was such a Jam, nobody had room to en- 
joy the beauties of art. Even in presence of the 
Sistine Madonna one can not be oblivious to the fact 
that some awkward Yankee is treading on her toes. 
In a few minutes, however, some saw the propriety of 
going over to the other side, and soon we were com- 
fortably dispersed around the four walls. Here a new 
diversion arose; all, I said, had catalogues, but ours 
was the only one written in English. Now you know 
how fascinating to the mind is a half-solved mystery; 
well, such has the colloquial German become to me ; so 
instead of beginning at once to examine the dumb 
designs before me, 1 became wholly intent upon catch- 
ing as much as possible of a description which a 
Dresden lady was reading aloud to a companion. 

'* A crucifixion by John, of Bologne, the most noted 
bronze in the room," read Mr. P., from our own cata- 
logue. 

Thus reminded of the object which had brought us 
to the Grune Gewolbe, I saw before me the work 
designated. I like not these images of our Saviour, 
but as a work of art, I was forced to admire the exe- 
cution. The whole weight of the body seemed really 
resting upon the nail-pierced hands and feet, the 
strained muscles of the arms and the swollen veins of 



LETTER SEVEN, 99 

the feet and ankles, are the natural result of such a 
position ; the great drops of blood are just ready to 
start from the wounded side. But if we stop to de- 
scribe every crucifixion with which we meet in Europe, 
I am sure the crosses will be more than you can bear, 
so you may accept this as a picture of the thousands 
we may see hereafter. I fear to tarry longer in the 
Bronze Koom lest my letter should acquire the dull 
hue of the metal. 

Quite convivial was our reception in the Ivory 
apartment. On the right and on the left, were 
arranged on tables, huge drinking-cups of ivory set in 
silver-gilt, lip-inviting goblets, decorated with precious 
stones; tankards of sufficient capacity to satisfy the 
original Bacchus, whose vine-crowned image formed 
an appropriate carving for the outside. But should 
cups, goblets and tankards be exhausted, numbers of 
mammoth ewers and pitchers, equally costly in design, 
stood ready to furnish a new supply. It seems the 
German fondness for drink is not a recent develop- 
ment, but has been handeddownfor many generations. 
Quite harmless and wonderfully beautiful are these 
vessels now, as they are exhibited merely to display 
their workmanship ; but many a time, no doubt, have 
they furnished the stimulus for energy-stealing, soul- 
destroying midnight revels. My thoughts were fast 
becoming overwhelmed in the vinous ocean which my 
imagination drew from those long-used cups, when a 
Dutch frigate came to the rescue. Just beyond the 
tables appropriated to the drinking vessels, and in 



100 DRESDEN. 

« - 

strong contrast with their massive structure, was the 
delicate craft to which I refer. It is two feet in height, 
two and a half feet long, and all of the purest iyory. 
Even the sails were of the same material and so thinly 
carved as to be transparent. On every yard-arm of 
fore, main, and mizzen mast is stretched its appropri- 
ate bit of imitation canvas, which is rounded towards 
the bow as if filled with a mighty wind. Tiny as are 
these sails, on them are carved in relief the arms of 
Saxony and Brandenburg, and on the hull are the 
names of all the Saxon electors till the time of John 
George I. The cordage is all of gold wire, and up 
among the rigging are nimble looking sailors about an 
inch high adjusting mimic ropes and sail. The pedes- 
tal upon which this rests represents Neptune in his sea- 
shell chariot drawn by sea-horses. Nothing could be 
more fairy-like. 

Quite near this is a group of one hundred and forty- 
one figures representing the " Fall of the Angels." 
How in the world any man ever had the patience to 
work away with a knife at a solid foot of ivory, until 
it grew into the form of a confusedly precipitated 
host of winged, shielded and helmeted creatures, is a 
mystery to me ! It was done by a monk, though, and 
doubtless, while he was thus engaged, many of his 
brethren were doing such work as " Satan finds for 
idle hands," so I am glad he achieved this marvel. 
Space and time hurry me now, into the Chimney 
Room, so called from a fire-place in the center. It 
■^as made in 1782, and is splendidly ornamented with 



LETTER SEVEN. 101 

topazes, moss, and eye-agates, amethysts, red, green 
and striped jaspers, cornelians, Saxon pearls, and 
rows of diamond-like pebbles. 

*'Do look at these diamonds?" exclaimed Mr. P. 

*' See how they throw back the sunlight. What 
mao;nificence I " 

They were indeed, very deceptive; but I knew 
hundreds of real diamonds each as large as a pea, 
would represent a value too fabulous to be exhausted 
upon a fire-place. Besides this chimney-piece were 
tables in Florentine and Roman mosaic ; but this is a 
kind of workmanship I do not yet understand. The 
Florentine tables have a black background adorned 
with figures of birds, fruits and flowers; the Eoman 
seems entirely formed of little square bits of stone or 
glass arranged in various patterns. On these tables, 
and on brackets around the walls, are cabinets of. 
amber, costly basins in enamel, fruit dishes studded 
with precious stones, vases, cups, and boxes formed 
of ostrich eggs, and of nautilus shells set in silver-gilt. 

"Now, let us go into the Silver Room," said our 
leader, and we followed. For a moment we stood at 
the entrance to take a view of the glittering treasures. 

" Oh ! you mean the Gold Room," said I; for every- 
thing in view wore the hue of this precious metal. 

Now was his time to retort : " All is not gold that 
glitters;" for the material was solid silver, washed 
with gold. 

The first thing that attracted my attention was a 
baptismal basin, which is still used at the christenings 



102 DRESDEN. 

of the royal family. On it, in relief, are the figures 
of John the Baptist, Christ and the Apostles, engaged 
in sprinkling infants. One of the most finished works 
of the Green Vaults, is one of the jewel-boxes in this 
room. It was made by Wenceslas Jamnitzer, a Nu- 
remberg artist of the sixteenth century. The lid has 
reposing on it a Venus, and around the edges are ani- 
mals and insects of various kinds. The whole thing is 
as symmetrically finished as if it had been moulded 
according to the modern plans. 

One of the old Nuremburg clocks, is quite a curios- 
ity. With its machinery are connected a Centaur 
with Diana on his back, and the dogs of the huntress 
at his side. At the stroke of each hour Centaur, 
Diana and the dogs, all begin to move their eyes 
about, the dogs spring forward as if suddenly wakened, 
while the Centaur shoots an arrow from his silver 
cross-bow. Near this were two goblets in the form of 
a giant with his globe on his shoulders. By the means 
of some hidden mechanism, these goblets move them- 
selves around the table, as if inviting each in turn to 
partake of their contents. These were once the 
property of Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden. 

The fifth room is filled with valuable vessels cut out 
of lapis-liizuli, jasper, chalcedony, agate, onyx, rock- 
crystal, and cornelian. Most interesting to me was a 
goblet of rock-crystal, once owned and used by Mar- 
tin Luther. Opening from this hall is a corner- closet, 
which contains more than two hundred and forty 
specimens of beautiful carvings in ivory and precious 



LETTER SEVEN. 103 

stones, and a large number of misshapen pearls. In 
this small area you could be amused for hours in 
studying out the quaint designs into which the stones 
are wrought. A laroje emerald is cut into the form of 
a bunch of grapes, which is being borne by enameled 
golden figures of Caleb and Joshua. The largest of 
the pearls is in the form of a heart, and is taken as 
the chest of a representation of Sennor Pepe, the 
court-dwarf of Charles II. It is half as large as a 
hen's egg, and there are a number of others almost as 
large. Each one is made to fit in that part of the 
body which it resembles, whether it be the arm of a 
dancing-girl, the helmet of a warrior, the stomach of a 
Falstaff, or the breast of a diamond winged sparrow. 

The seventh, or Wooden Room, contains chiefly 
shrines in which are preserved the cases for packing 
up these treasures in time of war. We tarried only a 
few minutes here, for the hour for closing up was near 
at hand, and we had not yet seen the royal jewels. 

But for the gradual preparation of the mind afforded 
in passing from bronze to ivory, from ivory to silver- 
gilt, from silver-gilt to jasper, chalcedony, crystal, and 
turquoise, we would have found it difllcult to believe our 
senses as they revealed to us the glittering treasures of 
this collection. On our right, what seems a real live 
negro with skin of darkest dye and eyes of that startling 
white peculiar to his race, starts up to meet us. He 
holds out to us, as if begging our acceptance, a great 
piece of ore covered with Peruvian emeralds in their 
natural state. To the left, is a shrine divided into six 



104 DRESDEN. 

compartments, and here are the jewels; the various 
classes of precious stones, among these are some of the 
first water; indeed, they are not to be surpassed by any 
collection in Europe. In the first is a garniture of rose 
diamonds, composed of thirty vest buttons, thirty coat 
buttons, four shoe buckles, a sword in whose hilt are 
seven hundred and eighty rosettes, and conspicuous 
above all the rest, a large green diamond, said to be the 
only one in the world. In fact, there are enough of 
these glittering gems in this one case, to render half 
the bridegrooms in America as enviably miserable as 
Gen. Sherman's son-in-law. For the Queen, there is 
a necklace of thirty-eight stones ; a pin for the cloak, 
composed of fifty-one large, and six hundred small 
brilliants; a pair of beautiful ear-rings, and other orn- 
aments. In this same division are sixty-two rings, 
two of which belonged to Martin Luther, and one of 
them to Melanchthon. Next comes an equal profusion 
of rubies, next to these, emeralds, and last, the sap- 
phires. 

But such a description as this is too much like photo- 
graphing the sun. Turn to the Arabian Nights, and 
read the wonders effected by the Spirit of the Lamp, 
and perhaps you can guess the rest. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER EIGHT. 105 



LETTER VIII. 



Dresden, August 6, 1875. 
Master Eugene D. Lindsay: 

mY DEAR BROTHER: As you say you are 
scarce of reading matter, I have concluded to 
give you a little history of my experience last Saturday 
afternoon. All the week Mr. P. and his room-mate 
have been talking about the fun that was going on 
at the Vogel-Wiese. About twelve every night we 
could hear them stumbling up stairs in the dark, upset- 
ting the table and chairs in the hall, and finally kicking 
their boots off, in their haste to get to bed. There is 
only a partition between their room and ours, so when 
morning comes we overhear their remarks as they 
laughingly comment upon their evening's merriment 
at the Vogel-Wiese. We asked Mr. R. whether or not 
this was a proper place for ladies to go. 

He said: — 

" Oh ! everybody goes : but you had better wait till 
Saturday, for then the King is to be there. " 

I invited Mrs. R.to bear us company, and about three 
we packed ourselves into a street car along with the 
rest of the " Dutchy " washerwomen, cooks, chamber- 
maids and shop-girls, who were out on a holiday excur- 



106 DRESDEN. 

sion. There were plenty of men too on the same car; 
but they were on top. It was show enough for me to 
' watch the faces and costumes of these people, and to 
witness their glee ; so I was rather sorry when the 
sound of hand organs, the sight of tents, and the sud- 
den halt of the car indicated that the ride was over. 
We pitched out along with the remaining forty-nine of 
our car load, and found ourselves standing several 
inches deep in the sand. A large meadow was in front 
of us ; all alive with men and women and children. Tbe 
first thing we came upon was a " Flying Dutchman," 
unlike any I ever saw at home. When I first saw it, it 
was not in motion, and it appeared an opencircular tent 
with an elevated platform for a floor. On this platform 
were figures of horses, swans, elephants, and other ani- 
mals. Pillars of slender proportions rose, at intervals, 
from this platform to support the canvas stretched 
overhead. A central portion is inclosed with crimson 
velvetine hangings adorned with beads, and I think this 
must conceal the pivot-post on which the whole thing 
turns. At any rate, while we were looking, boys and 
girls, men and women, had mounted the various ani- 
mals of the platform, till not one was left riderless. 
Then, suddenly, at the beating of a drum, the whole 
thing began to whirl so fast as to make your head swini. 
Baskets of glass beads, alternating with lamps, are sus- 
pended all around the movable tent, making at night a 
most bewildering scene. As they began to move two 
mimic Turks, sitting demurely with legs crossed, began 
to pitch apples into their mouths, taking a whole one 



LETTER EIGHT. 107 

at once, seeming to swallow it instantly, then smack- 
ing their lips and opening them ready for the next. 
These were automatons, and there is another one on 
top, who kept up a constant ringing of bells. There 
were dozens of these flying machines scattered over the 
grounds, some of them two-story affairs. One of 
them diflered from the rest. It had a fixed platform 
on which a circle of seats was fastened together and 
moving on wheels were made to revolve, on the veloc- 
ipede principle. About four men, dressed like clowns 
in striped pants, tight-fitting jacket and red dunce-cap, 
had to keep this thing going. They would place the 
right foot on a lever which turns all the wheels half way 
round ; then the left foot comes to the aid, and your 
head grows dizzy again. 

From this show, we directed our steps towards the 
three wooden birds with outspread wings, which 
seemed to have just alighted upon three tall upright 
posts out at one extremity of the meadow. The mid- 
dle bird, which was up one hundred and twenty-five 
or fifty feet in the air, looked as if it had been par- 
tially picked. Its tail was gone, its wings were almost 
featherless, in his bared breast were several wounds. 
This proved that there were in the throng those who 
knew how to handle the cross-bow with skill. It was 
to encourage practice in this art that the annual exhibi- 
tion at the Vogel-Wiese (Bird Meadow) was estab- 
lished. The pieces of the bird knocked off by the 
various marksmen are collected and weighed, and to 



108 DRESDEN. 

him who has the greatest aggregate the prize is 
given. 

•'I wonder if the King has come yet!" was the 
thought which led us in the direction of the shooting- 
gallery. 

No, and we learned he would not be there for an 
hour. We tarried not long to watch the arrows fly 
from peasant fingers. In the entrance to his Majesty's 
tent stood two footmen, looking as if they had just 
stepped out of a band-box, so very white were their 
stockings, their gloves, their vests, and their shirt- 
fronts. Their cutaway coats were of some light cloth, 
their knee pants of dark velvet, their dainty slippers 
of black kid. Two soldiers were standing guard, but 
they looked as if a nap would suit them better. 

*' Well, shall I show you around? " asked Mrs. E. 
"My husband and I were out the other day, and I 
know where the curiosities are." 

We readily assented. It was like walking down the 
street, looking at the display in the shop windows, 
and noting the various occupations of the passers-by. 
There were innumerable stalls at which persons 
were raffling for imitation silver goblets, cups and 
such like. Ever and anon, we found a group of 
boys, or young men shooting with air-guns at a target 
on which was written " -6ec^ ist hier.^' When one 
would hit the black, the figure of a man would dart out 
from behind the board, stuff his pockets full of bank- 
notes and instantly disappear. From Mrs. E. we 



LETTER EIGHT, 109 

learned that this Beck was a notorious scoundrel, who 
had recently escaped with a large amount of the 
deposits in the Dresden bank. 

"A necklace of real coral and a locket, for only one 
groschen" (two and a half cents), cried a voice beside 
us, and turning we encountered a Jew with thousands of 
these boasted chains around his neck, hundreds on his 
arms, twenty in his hand. These he was rapidly dis- 
tributing to the multitude at the marvelously low price 
I have mentioned. 

" Oh ! do see those white rats," cried Mrs. R., and 
following the direction of her eye, we discovered a 
man on whose head and shoulders frolicked a host of 
these pretty little creatures, and a cage beside him was 
literally covered with the fair nibblers. 

Amid such a medley, no one thing could long com- 
mand attention. There Avere tents all along, and in 
front of each stood men or women crying out the 
merits of what might be^ hidden within. On several 
tents were the portraits of immense women — women 
beside whom I would be a mere infant. Before one of 
these, two men were exhibiting a belt which they 
declared would fit her exactly. It was as large around 
as the middle hoop of a tobacco hogshead. 

*' Come in! come in!" they entreated, "she is 
most beautiful." 

We feared we might die from envy, should we see 
so much beauty in one lump, so we did not go in. 
On the opposite canvas was depicted the "Living 



110 DRESDEN. 

Skeleton," a man so thin you could count every rib 
and follow the outline of every muscle. 

" If opposites attract," some one suggested, " they 
had better keep strict guard over that pair, or there 
may be a runaway match." 

Indeed, such may have been the result; I am not 
prepared to say. 

Apes, monkeys, and bears, chasing each other up 
and down some upright posts, formed the advertise- 
ment of a small menagerie and circus. A little girl 
playfully twirling a serpent around her head and neck 
invited us to witness the wonderful feats to be per- 
formed behind the curtain. But I must not forget to 
mention the flea-show. These German fleas, or at 
least one family of German fleas, have been taught 
that hopping is ungraceful. Four of them were hitched 
to a little carriage, two others sat upright in the seat as 
if conversing, while a third acted as coachman. 

*'Well, let's go back now and wait for the King," 
said Mrs. E. 

We returned by a new route, and thus came upon 
new scenes. At one place a man had before him a 
series of pictures, representing love, matrimony, bur- 
glary, murder and other exciting events. Pointing to 
these illustrations the owner of the scenes related a 
narrative of which the pictured characters were the 
heroes. 

We past next the cake-sellers. These stood upon a 
platform, and behind them, piled up like clap-boards, 



LETTEE EIGHT. Ill 

were the delicious ( I) slabs of gingerbread. These 
were sold on the lottery plan. " Einen groschen, 
meine Dame!" (one groschen, my lady) squeaked a 
wiry, sharped-faced woman, holding out a ticket as 
far as she could reach. " Einen groschen, meine 
Dame," echoed in guttural tones a tall portly sister 
behind her ; and the same refrain was taken up by a 
wheezy, broken-winded man, handed by him to another, 
and so on the whole length of the platform. Ever and 
anon, some one of the crowd was moved to try his 
luck, and when a certain number of tickets were sold 
they were put in the wheel, and the fortunate one 
marched off with his prize under his arm. 

It was now time for the King ; already a dense 
crowd was assembled around the shooting-place, and a 
whole company of their beautifully dressed police 
were just in front of us. We pushed through the 
throng, for we were determined to see the King, at all 
events. At the command of the police the crowd fell 
back till there was left a space of twenty-five or thirty 
feet around the royal tent. Only one man separated 
me from this open space ; but alas I he was smoking a 
detestable cigar. The wind was blowing towards me, 
so I was getting as much of the smoke as was he. I 
turned to escape the nuisance, but found myself closed 
in from all sides. An ugly little hunchbacked dwarf 
just behind me, rubbing his dirty shoulders against 
the ends of my long hat ribbons as he vainly endeavored 
to see through my obstructing body. Poor fellow I 
this was seeing the King under difficulties. There was 



112 DRESDEN. 

no lack of sympathy for one who was crowded ; every 
face wore more or less of that agony which results from 
occupying a space whose dimensions are less than those 
of your body. 

" If you want these boots, just wait till I can take 
them off and I'll give them to you," said one fellow 
to another who was treading on his toes. 

" To think such a fine gentlemen would push like a 
peasant boy ! ' ' said a girl turning angrily upon some 
one behind her. To be called a " fine gentleman " so 
gratified his vanity, that he smiled complacently, and 
did his best to resist the pressure from behind. 

" He's coming ! He's coming I " cried rqy smoker, 
and, for a moment, he ceased to puff the smoke into 
my face. 

Everything was now forgotten, except the looked- 
for display of royalty. As for myself, I had eyes 
only for the opening through which I must catch the 
first glimpse of the first live king it had ever been my 
fortune to meet. The two footmen at the entrance were 
how joined by a number of elegantly clad fellows, whose 
scarlet and gold seemed handsome enough for their 
master. They looked the same expectancy which we 
felt. We were just beginning to think the time long, 
when two riders dashed gallantly forward, and drew 
rein immediately beside us. In another instant eight 
little boys, bearing standards, ran past us and stationed 
themselves on each side of the broad steps which led to 
the tented room. Following these, hke a flash, came 
the carriage of the king. Lightly sprang the accom- 



LETTER EIGHT. 113 

panying courtier to the ground, and quite as lightly, 
His Majesty followed. In another moment horsemen, 
pages, and carriages had disappeared, and there stood 
the king in the midst of his attendants, giving to each 
a cordial shake of the hand. As soon as these quiet 
salutations were finished, he crossed over to the shoot- 
ing gallery, and not till then did the people utter a sin- 
gle cheer. I had thought they cared naught for their 
king; but now one deafening shout arose, and I was 
satisfied. 

The arrow wa,8 fixed in the gilded bow, and the bow 
placed in the white-gloved hands of the sovereign. 

" His Eoyal Majesty is going to shoot," announced 
a crier in stentorian tones. 

This was spoken as pompously as if to shoot an 
arrow at a wooden bird were worthy of the great 
Saxon soldier. A few brief notes on a French horn 
followed this announcement, and, then, all breathless 
we watched the flight of the arrow. Plump on the 
breast of the most distant target, struck the well aimed 
shaft, and a band in the background burst into 
triumphant strains. Again and again, he aimed at the 
same spot; but each time his strong arm sent the dart 
too high in air. Sullenly the band kept still, and we 
wished he would take better aim, if it were only for 
the sake of the music. Once more he tipped the 
wing, and once more the music broke forth in high 
glee. He tried the distant bird no more after that, 
but aimed at the nearer one, and with better success. 
Not once did he miss, and in a short time there re- 
8 



114 DRESDEN. 

mained of the gaily plumaged bird only some fifty 
square yards of scattered fragments. These pieces 
were picked up, and placed upon a table near which 
brother was standing, so he slipped into his pocket 
one on which the king had left the print of his arrow. 
This souvenir of the occas^ion we are preserving, and 
value it almost as highly as we would a bit of one of 
Mr. Lincoln's rails, or as " a nail of the true Cross." 
Butl have written till there begins to grow upon me 
a feeling of fatigue akin to that which followed that 
afternoon's struggling with the crowd, so good-by. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER IX. 



Dresden, August 9, 1875. 

Dear Brother Graham : 

'O rapidly, midst the pleasing routine of study, 
recitation and sight seeing do the days go by that 
my week for writing always surprises me at its coming. 
What shall I tell you this time? of some of the beauti- 
ful gardens to which my afternoon walks with Mrs. 
Rudolph (our teacher's wife) have led me? No; for 
the " Grosze Garten " is a magnified image of all the 
rest. Shall I describe the Picture Gallery ? No ; 



LETTER NINE. 115 

for SO immense is it that not even my tenth visit has 
given me a comprehension of its treasures. Freshest 
in my mind are the events of last Saturday, and I 
believe they are sufficiently characteristic of Saxony 
to be of some interest. 

At eight o'clock a. m., I was pouring intently over 
one of Lessing's dramas, when some one called me to 
the window. 

"Don't close your book so reluctantly, " said my 
friend, " here is a more interesting lesson for you. " 

A lesson in military tactics it proved to be ; for, upon 
looking out, what should meet my view but an array 
of several hundred soldiers. They seemed provided 
with all the necessary equipments for a campaign. 
Numbers of wagons, laden with boats and timbers for 
pontoon bridges, brought up the rear. An officer was 
just making the circuit of the ranks to see if everything 
was in readiness to move. So quietly had all these 
men and vehicles taken their places that we had noticed 
no unusual commotion in the street, and now they stood 
in front of the depot waiting for the signal to enter 
the cars. What could it all mean? Has France pre- 
sumptuously violated her treaty, and thus rendered it 
incumbent upon Germany to again chastise her? Per- 
haps Austria had thrown off her timidity, and needed 
to be re-convinced that peace with Germany is her best 
policy? Unable to conjecture, I sought out our hostess 
in order to ask her opinion. I found her sitting in her 
balcony coolly darning her stockings. ** Dear me I " 
thought I, '* these Germans are no more affected by 



116 DRESDEN. 

signals of war than are the Americans at the ringing 
of the fire-bell." 

"Do tell me Miss S., what do you think of this 
movement? " 

" Ob 1 it is noting; I tink dey are going out for a 
little minerva." 

I was on the eve of asking, *' What ! Minerva I Do 
your people really worship the goddess of Wisdom? " 
but a second thought usually furnishes mie a key to 
Miss S.'s English. 

" Ah ! they are going out into the country to have a 
mock battle^ are they? They are tired of doing noth- 
ing." 

Her eyes sparkled with triumph at the supposed 
mastery of such an extensive English term, so I had 
not the heart to tell her how far was her " little mi- 
nerva "from a well matured maneuver . 

After thus finding that war was not yet so imminent 
as to make it necessary for us to flee to the ugly old 
Castle, I resumed study. .Nine o'clock came, and with 
it, as usual, our teacher. 

"Ah!" said he, after the usual salutations, "did 
you see those soldiers? That is what consumes all our 
money, and keeps us forever poor." 

In fact, you can not go out on the street; you can 
not look out at the window ; you can not enter a church 
or a public hall, but you are encountered by German 
uniform. On this same afternoon, accompanied by 
Miss S., I went to an Exposition of Saxon products, 
which is open here all summer. Prominent among 



LETTER NINE. 117 

manufactured articles are military trappings. In 
one case is to be seen the gold and silver cord on large 
spools; in the next, specimens of heavy fringe made 
from the cord; and, finally, the complete epaulets. 
Swords are there with hilts bedecked with gems and 
gold ; innumerable caps, with graceful, waving plumes ; 
whole stacks of their short cavalry guns and their 
peculiar infantry muskets ; supplies of ammunition 
beside them — in short one might imagine herself to 
have fallen upon an encampment and that any moment 
the warrior chieftans might come forward to don again 
these habiliments but momentarily thrown aside. 

But I wish you to see other parts of this collection, 
so we will leave the war question for the present. If 
we view the exposition with the intention of compar- 
ing it with those we have seen at home, we will pro- 
nounce it very small and very tasteless in arrangement; 
but we must remember that only little Saxony contrib- 
utes everything, and that the way to make it interesting 
s to search for novelties amidst the confused mass. 
At the very entrance to the next building one of the 
sought for novelties presents itself in the shape of sev- 
eral tall monumental piles of stone coal. Clustered 
around them, as if waiting an opportunity to prepare 
these monuments for Cinderella, were a large number 
of the beautiful porcelain-covered stoves, I have before 
mentioned. 

" Oh ! Miss S., where is that perfume ? " I inquired, 
as a most delightful odor became diffused around us. 

"Come; I'll show you. " 



118 DRESDEN. 

I followed till she stepped before a structure in the 
form of a summer-house. Its eight pillars were of 
various colors, and the covering overhead was of some 
transparent, wax-like substance. On the floor was 
scattered a profusion of artificial fruits and flowers, 
evidently of the same material. 

"What is it, Miss S.?" 

"What is it! why soap, of course," and now I rec- 
ognized through all the gay attire, our every-day friend 
of the toilet-table. At one side were piled up, higher 
than our heads, great marble-like blocks of it, and 
through several glass cases various fancy designs 
appeared. If the French could only make a successful 
raid upon this gallery, Paris hotels might become able 
to furnish their lodgers with this indispensable article. 
(I must admit, however, that German hotels are no 
better than the French in this respect. ) 

*' Oh ! look what lujiy sausage, " ejaculated Miss S., 
as her eyes fell upon a lot of bolognas strung along 
the adjacent walls. 

" How nice ! " I responded; but I meant how nice 
that the fragrant soap delivered me from an olfactory 
perception of its presence. Please to observe that 
word luJly (lovely), for it is characteristic of Miss S. 
She says her coarse, ungainly washerwoman is lujiy ; 
that her saurkraut is lujiy ; that her cooking-range is 
lujiy; in fact, she makes everything Zwj^y. Another 
peculiarity of hers is to suppose that stupidity is a 
purely objective term. 



LETTEE NINE. 119 

As we walked through the machine-room, she 
exclaimed with impatience : 

" These stoopid machines; I do know noting at all 
about dem." 

Resisting the temptation ( I) to appropriate one of 
the aforesaid bolognas, we ascended the stairs. Said 
my companion : — 

" Dis exposish' is noting. I did cry ven I was at 
Vienna, dere were so many lufly dings." 

*' Well, Miss S., here is something worthy of your 
tears, I am sure," I replied, as we entered the lace 
department. 

This manufacture is extensively carried on, and 
some of the most elegant pieces were wrought 
by girls of only six years. You may infer that it is 
comparatively very cheap, and such is the case. Indeed, 
Mr. R. says that out in the mountainous districts the 
poor peasant women make it "for a mere song." 
We passed now in succession the beautiful linens, the 
goods of fur and plush, the floor mats, the very infe- 
rior glassware, and finally stopped beside a man who 
was engaged in weaving silk — weaving in the good, 
old-fashioned way — not by machinery, but tramping 
with his foot first one treadle, then the other, and pass- 
ing the shuttle back and forth with his hands, lightly 
tapping each strand of the woof into its place. When 
one of the slender threads of the warp broke, he 
sought patiently among the twelve sets of harness till 
it was found and mended. He wove an inch during 



120 DRESDEN. 

the five miuutes I stood watching, so, ray friends, if 
any of you want me to order you a dress, you can com- 
pute how long it would take him to prepare it. That 
would be a very nice exercise for some member of my 
former classes in mental arithmetic. I do not advise 
you to buy a Dresden silk, though, if you are wanting 
something handsome. Neither do I advise you to 
come here for shoes, that is unless you wish to learn 
to walk on stilts. Oh ! you can find them of every 
color, bright blue, buff and green being the predomi- 
nant shades — all embroidered with white, and laced 
up to a height of twelve inches or more. Of course, 
these must be very costly, but among the plainer ones 
you find nothing better. One pair of boots had the 
tops ornamented with pictures of the king and queen, 
and one of the floor msts bad a similar central design. 
It seems to me very much out of place to tread thus 
upon the images of royalty. 

But I am making my letter too long. The beautiful 
Meissen china, I will describe to you, when I shall have 
gone out to the little town and witnessed the different 
processes by which it is made. The exposition would 
be very defective without a miniature beer garden 
attached ; and in spite of the mute testimony of the 
numberless guitars and violins, accordions and flutes, 
pianos and organs, a stranger might doubt whether 
these instruments were for home use or solely for 
export. But some strains of music attracted us, just 
as we were grown weary of walking around, and led 



LETTER NINE. 121 

by the sound, we were soon in the midst of a quietly 
cheerful crowd, who sat grouped around the tables, 
sipping beer or coffee, and listening to the music. 

" Well, Miss L., may I treat you to a cup of coffee, 
so dat we may get to sit down and rest ? ' ' asked 
Miss S. 

" ^o, thanks. Treat yourself to the coffee and me 
to a glass of water, and that will effect the same end." 

This was my first experience of being seated among 
beer-drinkers — I mean in this public manner — and 
I am glad to say everything was as orderly as in one of 
our home restaurants. I had supposed that the music 
was merely an excuse, and that the beer-drinking was 
the main object, but not so. One man, whose face was 
anything but sentimental, sat down opposite us, and 
ordered a glass of beer. The waiter brought it, the 
man rose, took his purse from his pocket, paid his 
groschen, and was just putting his purse back when 
the band began to play. His hand ceased instantly to 
move, his attitude became that of intent listening, 
every sense was absorbed in that of hearing ; and thus 
he stood, forgetful of the foaming liquor, till the last 
note died away. 

EUDOBA. 



122 DRESDEN. 



LETTER X. 



Dresden, August 22, 1875. 

Dear Brother Graham: 

NOTHEE, Lord's Day has dawned upon us 
from German skies ; and as the east brightens 
at ushering in the holy day, so our hearts glow afresh 
with newly-kindled patriotism. No other custom of 
our native land so endears it to our memory, as the uni- 
versal observance of this period of rest and devotion ; 
and no peculiarity of this country strikes us more 
harshly, than its common neglect. 

What sacred ( I) sound, think you, roused me from 
this morning's slumbers ! Had I never heard it before 
I mio;ht have thouo-ht it the death-shriek of some 
hideous monster of the night. Three times in succes- 
sion the shrill piercing notes rent the air, and then came 
the tramp of many feet on the pavement below. It was 
not necessary for me to go to the window ;. I have learned 
by heart this every-day scene. The startled, instantly 
terminated cries, were those of a steam engine, which 
is here encouraged to ply its trade without respect to 
times or seasons. There is no tone of reverence, no 
echo of the church bell in its defiant notes; plainly the 
heart which moves it, has no sympathy with the many 



LETTER TEN. 123 

wretched creatures it brings again to-day to the field 
of their increasing toil. At the given signal, the doors 
are thrown open, and out pour the ant-like horde, 
diverging in many directions. Poor women I their 
burdens are not a whit lighter than yesterday, not a 
whit more possible is it for them to walk erect, not a 
whit stronger or more refreshed will to-morrow find 
them. What would you think of asking a woman to 
help you remove your household effects, by carrying 
tables, carpet, beds, etc., on her back? A German 
peasant woman wouldn't be astonished at such a 
request, and I do not know but you would find it 
cheaper than hiring wagons for the purpose. Only 
yesterday one of them passed our window with half a 
dozen chairs and two large baskets firmly supported 
upon her shoulders. She must have been a mathe- 
matician to thus accurately determine the center of 
gravity of such an anomalous figure. 

But not only do these people, whose daily necessities 
require it, work on Sunday ; but in every shady nook 
you may see well-dressed women leisurely sewing and 
chatting ; along every garden path you may meet 
some neat looking lass mechanically plying her knit- 
ting needles while her eyes are busy with the sur- 
rounding scene. In going down the steps the other 
Sunday on our way to church, we had to lift our skirts 
to escape the fresh paint two men were applying; two 
others were in the act of adjusting ladders to the out- 
side wall of an opposite palace, ready to engage in 
similar labor. 



124 DRESDEN. 

I was quite shocked one day last week at a conversa- 
tion with Frau Kudolph. 

" That is beautiful lace you are making, Mrs. R. ; 
but it is very tedious is it not? " I asked. 

" Oh ! no, I commenced this piece on Sunday, and 
it is now nearly finished." 

I made no further comment ; for I had thought that 
one so ladylike and intelligent would better know her 
duty. 

But you ask, are there no churches in Dresden ? no 
teachers of the Word? no Sunday-schools? This last 
question I put to Miss S. a few minutes ago, and with 
a self-satisfied air she replied : — 

"No, we are not so pious." 

In regard to the number of buildings we climbed to- 
da}^, the three hundred steps leading to one of the city 
watch towers, and from that point counted ten promi- 
nent steeples. But the piety of Rome can not be esti- 
mated by the size of St. Peter's; neither do the tall 
spires of this city necessarily indicate the heavenward 
aspirations of her people. One must go within, 
mingle with the cono-reo-ations, read their hearts in their 
faces, and test the quality of the spiritual food appor- 
tioned to them. This we have tried to do, and I will 
give the result of our observations. 

On the first Lord's day we attended the American 
Episcopal service, the only representative of our 
religious bodies in the city. We felt quite at home as 
we looked around upon the half hundred of our 
sojourners in this strangedand. There was not a Ger- 



LETTER TEN". 125 

man face in the audience, so I suppose any proselyt- 
ing efforts they may have made have proved futile. I 
went to my oracle, Miss Schuster, and asked her in 
regard to this matter. 

" Oh !" she said, " when any of our people should 
want to join de Episcopal Church dey just go 
to de Roman CatJiolic, which is all de same." 

But we all enjoyed the services, for the prayers were 
read with feeling, and the sermon delivered in simple 
and forcible style. We have been there once since 
and found about half the congregation the same as 
before, while the other half were new to us. From 
this I infer that there are about twenty-five regular 
attendants. They hold their meetings in a private 
house of one of their most zealous members, and hope 
by voluntary contributions to ultimately erect a 
church. 

Our next experience was with the High Church of 
England. Here the prayers are neither read nor sung, 
but the whole service is tortured into a succession of 
meaningless iatnbics. The minister, in his long white 
robe, with elapsed, uplifted hands, downcast eyes, and 
devoutly lengthened visage, slowly and noiselessly 
approached and knelt beside a little altar, and from 
his lips proceeded the soulless sounds to which the 
congregation made responses. In his inspired vocab- 
ulary " Temptation " became *' Tempti shun;'^ 
"Kingdom" was transformed into ^^ king dumh.^* 
Satan never could have recognized his name, accented 
as it was on the last syllable. I have often wondered 



126 DRESDEN. 

where Eaphael and Michael Angelo found models for 
their St. Sebastians, St. Sixtuses, and St. Ad infinit- 
ums; but with this reproduction of the ancient Pharisee 
before me, I ceased to wonder. Mayhap those wont 
to participate in this abuse of the Enojlish language felt 
edified thereby, but I was not sensible of any wonderful 
spiritual development. 

A hiindl'ul of Scotch Presbyterians complete the 
number of English-speaking congregations in the city, 
and to these we next paid our respects. Suffice it to 
say there was more ventilation in the room, more 
variation in the tone of the speaker, speedier termina- 
tion to his prayers, than we found in Edinburgh. 

We decided to go next to the church which is 
patronized by Saxon royalty. I had supposed that 
the throne which so generously protected Luther 
would doubtless yet observe its tenets ; but not so : 
Albert and his Queen are Roman Catholics. Augus- 
tus the Strong, about 1750, became a convert to their 
faith, and thereby won a crown. It was not, however, 
the never-failing, spiritual crown which is the usually 
promised reward of faith, but the fleeting sovereignty 
of Poland. The oath taken by Augustus compels his 
successors to adhere to the Romish form of worship. 
As proof of his zeal in the new cause, he erected on 
the south bank of the Elbe, a costly cathedral. I 
haven't time to introduce you to the fifty-nine saints 
who stand guard around the flat copper roof, nor to the 
half dozen others sheltered by the niches around the 
walls. A covered passage connects the chapel with an 



LETTER TEN. 127 

upper story of the royal Palace so the king may not 
be exposed to the vulgar eye as he repairs to his devo- 
tions. 

There is cold comfort in contemplating the stony 
saints, which looked down from the roof of the royal 
church, let us enter without delay. Some dozen stone 
steps lead to a door through which the sound of music 
greets the ear. What ! have we made a mistake? Is 
this an opera house instead of a church? No organ 
unaided could produce such strains. At any rate, 
we'll open the door and investigate the matter. 
What a crowd I How many Americans, too, among 
them ! The whole aisle is filled with elegantly dressed 
ladies and gentlemen. More handsome silks and 
tasteful hats than we have seen this side of New York I 
Some seem intent on displaying them, too; for they 
keep up a constant promenade the whole length of the 
open space. I see nothing devotional except an occa- 
sional raising of the eyes towards heaven. These 
upward glances are all directed towards the same point ; 
let us follow the promenaders, till we reach a position 
commanding a view of the whole immense nave. 
The great square columns are too far from beautiful 
to tempt one to even a moment's study of their archi- 
tecture. But half these columns were passed, and you 
have found an answer to the query, *' What brings 
these people here? " In the gallery, some forty feet 
above, is the grand organ, whose thousand pipes are 
now swelling with sublimest notes. But this is not all. 
At every new touch of the organ keys twenty-four vio- 



128 DRESDEN, 

lin bows are swept by skillful hands across the strings 
of as many instruments, while the well trained voices 
of the choir rise and fall in harmony with the exultant 
or penitential strains. The words are unintelligible; 
the sight of a full orchestra suggests no idea of worship ; 
those among whom we are standing, are absorbed 
either in the music, or in displaying their new clothes. 
More probable than ever, grows the conclusion that 
we have stumbled upon some place of amusement. 
But there is a change. The grand chorus is stilled, 
and a voice from the opposite end of the nave begins 
a solitary chant. Ah I it is a priest ; gorgeously ar- 
rayed; and, as we let our eyes fall, we see that hitherto 
we have been observing only spectators, leaving the 
worshipers unnoted. Qaite a number of them are on 
their knees, counting their beads as they mumble off 
the Pater nosters and " Ave Marias." More than 
one, however, allows himself disturbed in his devotions 
by the shifting throng of curious lookers-on ; the 
young, especially, try in vain to keep their eyes from 
wandering. We return home without even a crumb 
of instruction in righteousness, doubting not, that even 
the kneeling boliovers left as hungry as they came. 

But Catholicism, though professed by the throne, 
has comparatively few representatives in Saxony. It 
is Lutheranism which erects the tallest spires in their 
large cities, and furnishes the only places of worship 
for the surrounding villages. Let us, then, while the 
impressions of the Catholic service are still fresh, 
betake ourselves to the Frauenkirche, that we may see 



LETTER TEN. 129 

to what extent Luther has effected a reformation. 
Ah ! the moment we enter one of the many doors, 
which occur at regular intervals around the walls, we 
feel that we are indeed at church. There is a silver 
crucifix beneath the wings of the angel hovering over 
the altar ; but none of those entering bow or cross 
themselves in its presence. There is no orchestra to 
attract a worldly-minded crowd, but a magnificent 
organ times the music of the fifteen hundred who 
unite in a chorus of praise to the Almighty. I see no 
one without a hymn book, and no one but is using it. 
After two or three such songs, the congregation rises 
while the preacher reads the passage from which he 
intends to speak. Every one seems so solemn. Look 
all over the room, but you will look in vain for the 
school girls' corner with its characteristic bright 
•ribbons, restless eyes and fluttering fans. Indeed, so 
coquettish an act as fanning one's self is strictly for- 
bidden. 

But another song is being sung, and we shall be 
thought heathen, if we are caught staring about. 
Now, the preacher who read awhile ago from the front 
of the altar, appears in the little cylindrical pulpit, 
which looks like a beautiful chrysalis clinging to the 
wall above. He does not have to pause in the course 
of his sermon to request the attention of his audience ; 
there are among them no boys exchanging winks, nods, 
and whispers till on tho verge of laughter ; I hear no 
old men snoring from lack of interest. But the ser- 
mon ends, and all with bowed heads silently listen, 
9 



130 DRESDEN. 

while one of the three prayers at the back of the 
hymn book is read. A concluding song is then sung, 
and then " all whose consciences so dictate," are 
invited to remain to partake of the memorial feast. 
It seems as if nobody's conscience so dictates, for 
there is a general movement towards the various 
places of exit. We'll wait till last, any way, to see 
what more may be done. 

Ah ! about one hundred are assembled around the 
altar, on which beneath the four lighted candles, the 
cup and loaf are awaiting consecration. Alas ! in this 
Luther failed to reach the truth. How could he think 
and teach that such words as the preacher is now 
chanting, have power to work the miracle of Transub- 
stantiation? The invocation is over, and on the left 
of the altar stands one minister with the wafer, while 
on the right is another with the wine. By fives, the 
men first, the communicants approach; the minister 
breaks off a morsel, and puts it in the mouth of each. 
In the same order, they pass around behind the altar 
to the right, where they receive the wine. 

So we have witnessed the entire service instituted by 
the great Reformer; what think we of it, do you say? 
Well, I think I'll go again. Despite the foreign 
tongue and the foreign faces, it is more like home ~ 
than any place we have been. True, we could dis- 
pense with the organ ; but this one does no great 
harm, since the people do not allow it to drown out 
their voices. One could see very well in the day- 
time without the caudles they keep burning ; but for 



LETTER TEN. 131 

those who would see the **real presence** in this sa- 
crament something more than natural light is, of course 
needed. 

Shortly after our arrival in Dresden, we came, one 
morning, upon a queer looking building whose like we 
had never seen before save in the artistic designs which 
served as way-marks in the school books of our child- 
hood. We inquired of Mr. R. the nature of the build- 
ing, and he replied : — 

*' Oh ! that is the Russian Church. Didn't you know 
the Czar was here last Sunday to dedicate it? It is but 
a toy compared with its prototypes, the magnificent 
temples of Russia ; but they are all built after this 
same model. Its minaret and five gilded domes are 
very imposing in effect. Go there, if you would see 
the whole Grecian service in miniature. " 

In accordance with this advice, after a few weeks, 
we presented ourselves at the entrance of the sacred 
precincts. At the vestibule we were met by a man 
who walked on tip-toe, and with his finger on his lip. 
He whispered something in my ear in a tone so low that, 
had it been English, it would have been unintelligible. 
Thrice I made him repeat it, and, at last, found the 
mysterious communication to be in these words : 
' ♦ Damen liiiks^ Herrn rech t, ' ' We then passed in , Kate 
and I going, as directed, to the left. Brother to the 
right. Every one was standing, for there was not a 
seat in the room, except one or two chairs, evidently 
the private property of some regular attendnnt. 
Like the ancient Jewish Temple it is divided into two 



132 DRESDEN. 

apartments, a screen of richly stained glass taking the 
place of the embroidered veil. In the farther cham- 
ber, corresponding to the Most Holy Place, stood a 
priest beside the altar. Never was Aaron more gor- 
geously arrayed than was this pretended follower of 
the meek and lowly Jesus. A robe of green wrought 
in gold trailed upon the floor; beneath was a rich tunic 
of soft crimson silk. Whether he was confessing the 
sins of the people, or what he was saying I know not ; 
but at intervals some of the worshipers would make 
the sign of the cross, vehemently repeating it several 
times in succession. Others fell upon their knees and 
bowed themselves till their foreheads touched the floor. 
This prostrating of the body was chiefly confined to 
our side of the house. One old lady, especially, 
remained in this attitude till her breath and strength 
were almost gone, then arose and sat down in her chair 
till sufliciently recovered to repeat the process. One 
broad-shouldered young man seemed equally devoted, 
but his devotion was differently expressed. He stood 
perfectly erect, and, every ten minutes, his right hand 
would reluctantly leave off the delightful occupation 
of stroking his sandy beard, rapidly describe upon his 
chest the sextuple sign of the cross, then gladly resume 
its former caressing movement. I believe he was 
thinking more of conquering by the charm of his 
goatee, than by the sign miraculously given to Con- 
stantine. . 

Whatever other good all these gestures, bowings, 
and prostrations may afiect, I am sure they do not 



LETTER TEN. 133 

entirely exorcise the evil spirit of selfishness; for Kate 
put this to the test. One woman had been standing 
all the time with her hand on the back of an unoccu- 
pied chair. Kate felt as if she couldn't stand another 
minute, so she stepped over and asked permission to 
sit down a little. Understanding an assent to be given, 
she, sank down with a sigh of relief and gave herself up 
to the luxury of rest. In a moment she felt upon her 
back the stroke of a hand ; but, thinking it accidental, 
she continued to sit unmoved. In another moment the 
blow was repeated, and this time with such force as to 
leave no doubt of its meaning. Perhaps that is a Rus- 
sian way of being polite, but, if so, their code of 
etiquette is as peculiar as their liturgy. 

Well, an hour and a half went by, its minutes marked 
by bowings, its quarters by crossings, its halves by 
prostrations, with here and there an episode furnished 
by the priest. One minute he was at the altar with 
his back to the congregation ; the next, he had turned 
that we might perceive the mediocrity of his counten- 
ance. Now, he withdrew into the other apartment, 
while invisible hands closed upon him the sliding 
screen; again, sallying forth unannounced, he was 
rigrht among us in the aisle with his swinging censer. 
Of course, the whole thing was pantomime to me, for 
not a syllable did I understand. As the grand conclu- 
sion he brought forth a golden crucifix, at sight of which 
all the faithful pressed forward. For what purpose, 
think you? Why, to bestow upon this idol a parting 
kiss. Gray haired sires, lisping infants, aged mothers, 



134 DRESDEN. 

blooming maidens, — all with equal eagerness touched 
with their lips the sacred image. One, more zealous 
than the rest, kissed not only the cross, but also the 
toe of the Virgin painted on the screen, and other 
sacred things upon the various altars. 

You may think I have said enough on the Sunday 
question ; but I have yet to tell you of the Albertinian 
fest held last Sunday in the Grosze Garden. From an 
inquiry, we learned that this is an institution annually 
held for the benefit of the poor soldiers disabled during 
the war of 1866. The Queen is protectress and presi- 
dent of the Albertinian Society, and its members are 
ladies of the first Saxon families. 

*' But why is the fest celebrated on Sunday?** I 
inquired of Frau Rudolph. , 

" For the sake of a better attendance," she replied; 
" and as it is for charitable purposes, it is as good as 
going to church." 

Well, we went, and a novel experience it was. As 
soon as we were inside the gate our struggle with the 
crowd began. 

" There is the most distinguished actress of Dres- 
den,*' said Miss S., as we came upon a group in whose 
midst stood a tall, elegantly attired lady. 

'* What are in those little white envelopes she is dis- 
tributing," I asked. 

*' Tickets. If the one that buys' is lucky, he'll 
draw something nice with that." 

"Ah I this is on the lottery plan, is it?" and just 
then I caught upon the face of a buyer the well known 



LETTER TEN. 135 

expression of disappointment, as his open envelope 
displayed a blank within. But here is another more 
fortunate; let's follow him to see what he has won. 
He stops before a booth where three or four young 
ladies are busily engaged in handing out to each appli- 
cant the prize called for on his ticket. Our friend 
receives a fancy " catch all," the handiwork of some 
fair Albertinian. Another carries away an elegant 
lamp as a trophy of her good luck. Portraits of the 
King, work baskets, toys, neckties, and such other 
articles, wait on the shelves till their respective num- 
bers may be drawn. Seeing that there was nothing of 
value in the collection, I inquired what might be the 
price of the tickets. 

*' Dat depends to de generosity of de von dat buy. 
See dat vite haired man over dere mit his footman 
behind him. He is much richer dan any udder man in 
Dresden, I tink. He will pay five tollar for a ticket, 
and he vill buy von dozen, for he does love dat lady 
vat sells de tickets." 

<*Whois she?" 

"Pischler, who sing in de opera. She vill be mos' 
happy, ven she get dat old Russian, and his lufly 
palace." 

By this time we were quite near the artificial lake, 
which, with the swans floating upon its bosom, is one 
of the most attractive features of the garden. But I 
wondered how the mere beauty of the swans and the 
crystal water could elicit such rapt attention on the 
part of the thousands, who now surrounded it so 



136 DRESDEN. 

entirely that we could not get even a glimpse. By 
dint of much crowding, however, we drew nearer. 
Near enough to see the swans? Yes. Near enough to 
see the shadows in the water? Yes; but through 
astonishment I forgot to look at them. On a platform 
in the middle of the lake were some dozen dusky crea- 
tures, each dressed in short white pants and blouse. 
At first they were standing still, but suddenly a band 
began playing, and as suddenly began these creatures 
to perform such antics as I never saw before. 

" What kind of human beings are they I " was my 
first exclamation. 

"They are Arabs," some- one responded* **Did 
you ever see such gymnastic feats? " 

Well, I never had, but I didn't wait to reply. We 
left the spot immediately; but the only way to get to 
the entrance was by making the circuit of the lake and 
the motly crowd around it. While penetrating this 
mass of humanity, we encountered a forcible reminder 
of home, in the form of an extremely black specimen 
of the African race. I felt like shaking hands with 
Sambo, and inquiring about the " old folks at home," 
but in a moment he was gone, and I saw him no more. 

" I thought the King and Queen were to be here,'* 
remarked some one. 

*' Well, and so they are," was the response; ** they 
are watching the Arabs." 

Just then the music ceased, and a parting of the 
throng with a respectful lifting of hats, enabled us to 
distinguish the royal party. Besides the King and 



LETTER TEN. 13 7 

Queen, there was Prince George, brother of the King, 
his Princess, and their son, a boy of about twelve, who 
is heir prospective of the Saxon throne. 

"How shabby the Queen loolis," said Miss S, 
*' Her dress is common, and that same hat with blue 
ribbon I saw her wear in May." 

" Oh ! she is not the Queen to-day, but one of the 
people," said some disposed to be less critical ; and dur- 
ing these remarks the whole party approached a booth, 
under which an immense beer hogshead had been for 
hours liberally pouring forth its contents for the thirsty 
multitude. With alacrity the beer-seller filled to the 
brim the glasses which had been in frequent use all 
day, and presented them to his royal customers. Her 
Majesty drank with apparent relish the whole glass of 
foaming liquor, and the rest followed her example. 
Next came the buying of lottery tickets, but how much 
luck they had I do not know, for I did not follow 
them all the way round. We were now quite near the 
gate, and we were also quite ready to come home. 
What more occurred after we left I know not, except 
that at night the garden was illuminated, and a theatri- 
cal entertainment was given. I suppose they must have 
taken in a large sum of money, and if the end justi- 
fies the means, the whole thing was decidedly praise- 
worthy; but I have never been taught to consider 
lotteries, gymnastics, or theatrical performances as 
appropriate for Sunday. I think I could spend a life- 
time in Germany without feeling the slightest tempta- 
tion to attend another of the annual fests, no matter 



138 DRESDEN. 

how many queens should take part in them or how 
many glasses of beer each should drink. 

We have but one more Sunday in Dresden, as we 
propose leaving for Prague, Bohemia, on the last day 
of September. Our stay here has been pleasant and 
profitable, but I am not sorry the time has come for 
entering upon new scenes. How I like Germany, you 
may judge from my letters and from your previous 
knowledge of my tastes. I am thankful I was not 
born in this land, and hope that I may not be buried 
here. I say this last because of the manner in which 
the dead are treated. Several times we have seen the 
funeral hearse slowly wending its way through the 
streets, accompanied by one woman and ten or eleven 
men in black uniforms. We supposed at first, that 
they were merely taking the empty coffin to the house 
of the deceased, but upon inquiry found that they were 
on their way to the cemetery. 

*' But, Miss S.," I asked, "don't the friends go to 
the burial? " 

" Oh ! no. If my sister should die, I would not go 
to the grave. It is not expected of us. We hire three 
men to attend to it, and the woman prepares the corpse 
for the coffin." 

<« How many horses were in the hearse you saw this 
afternoon ? ' ' 

" Only two, I think." 

*< Oh ! that was a servant girl, then. The rich have six 
horses ; but that is very expensive. With us one must 
pay very dear even for dying." 



LETTER ELEVEN. 139 

Now you understand why I would not like to die in 
Germany. Of course the body from which the soul 
has fled knows not whether the hands of love or cold 
indifference are decking it for the tomb ; but I see not 
how the living can forego the mournful pleasure of 
strewing the flowers over what remains of the once 
breathing clay. 

Eudora. 



LETTER XL 



Dresden, September 26, 1875. 
Dear Brother South : 

tHIS has been such a busy week, that till now 
I have have had no time for writing letters. 
On to-morrow morning we recite to Prof. R. our last 
lesson, and in anticipation of this, he has been putting 
upon us double work for the last few days. Besides 
that, Kate has been taking a few Italian lessons, and 
I listened, one day, to see if I could learn enough to 
help her any. Miss S.'s rejected widower is her 
teacher, a German, but one who has learned Italian by a 
residence of eighteen years in the country. He says 
funny things enough to keep one laughing all the time. 
For a few minutes he sticks to the Italian, then sud- 



140 DRESDEN. 

denlv an anecdote occurs to his mind. Even if this is 
in the middle of a sentence, he looks up instantly, 
squints his left eye, bounces out of his chair, strikes an 
oratorical attitude, and begins. After one of these 
amusing preludes, he related the following: — 

** I will tell you somedings, ladies, and you moos 
dink on me ven you come dere. It is about Naples. 
Vonce I was very inteemate mit a Kussian countess, 
and vile I was inteemate mit dis countess, I vas invited 
to take dinner by her von day. She said to me ven ve 
vas on (at) de table, ' Mr. G., I vill tell you vat I 
dinks. Naples is a paradise of demons.' So ven you 
come to Naples, dink on me and de Russian countess." 

You see the point to the story is the intimacy with 
the countess; but I suppose there is also truth in the 
comment upon Naples. Three months later I can per- 
haps judge better in regard to that matter. He is to 
give one more lesson on Tuesday, and then we must 
bid adieu to him along with the other curiosities of 
Germany. Kate is merely trying to review enough 
Italian to manage the railroad officials between Turin and 
Florence, where my German will probably not be 
understood. 

Thus you see study and recitation occupy most of my 
time, but on Friday afternoon, we made a little excur- 
sion of which we have talked ever since coming to 
Dresden. Saxon Switzerland is a strip of country on 
the Elbe about twenty miles south-east of Dresden. 
As its name indicates, it is a wild panorama of rocky, 
fir-crowned promontories, dancing water-falls, and 



LETTER ELEVEN. 141 

fern-carpeted valleys. The praises of this region, 
together with reproaches for not visiting it, have all 
summer been constantly sounded in our ears. But we 
waited till we were ready, and the event has approved 
our plan. At 12 :40 we joined the crowd of smoking 
*' Dutchmen," stoop-shouldered washerwomen, and the 
few genteel travelers in the waiting-room of the Bohe- 
mian depot. We thought for so short a journey, we 
would try the novelties of a third-class passage ; and 
the fun we had fully repaid us for occupying cushion 
less seats. The train moved at such a furious pace 
there was no time to study the features of the land- 
scape. We were scarcely conscious that a village on our 
left was looking down upon its image in the water, that a 
slope of scrubby trees on our right was trying to stop our 
progress, tni village was transformed into meadow-land, 
and the slope into a level potato patch enlivened by the 
bright dresses of many diggers. At this rate, we were 
soon at Eathan, and at the primitive wharf where a 
skiff was waiting. This wharf was a mere foot-bridge 
over that portion of the river which was too shallow to 
support the noble craft riding at anchor in the deeper 
water. The red-faced, blear-eyed old oarsman, who 
formed the captain and crew of this second Elysia, 
seemed neither glad nor sorry to seeus,but when we were 
seated, he settled his brown cap more securely over his 
straggling white hairs, mechanically grasped his long 
pole and bent himself to the task of propelling us across. 
We had scarcely parted company from the wharf on 
one side, till our feet were upon the sands of the oppo- 



142 DRESDEN. 

site bank, all ready and eager to ascend the frowning 
Bastei. To scale the perpendicular heigths presented 
to the river, would have been impossible ; but we had 
planned an attack from the rear. A little shower threat- 
ened to drive us back, but its force was soon exhausted, 
and a blue sky lent its cheering countenance to the 
enterprise. We thought it best to send the cavalry in 
advance, so Kate mounted the steed, taken but a 
moment before, I think, from the plow. With much 
deliberation she obeyed the "Forward! march! " of 
our command. My Brother and Mr. P., constituted 
my body-guard, so I knew there would be no chance 
for *' Crookshank" adventures. 

Our road wound around along a valley on one side of 
which a dark pine grove reared its boughs so thick and 
dark as to conceal all but the splintered pinnacles of 
mighty rock towers beyond. On our right rose the 
"Jungfrau," solitary and majestic, to the height of three 
hundred feet. I suppose it would be an insignificant 
elevation, if compared with its Alpine prototype; but 
accustomed as we are to the plains about Dresden, we 
are quite impressed by its grandeur. Immediately by 
our path flows a little brook whose waters furnish 
food for the cresses on its surface. 

" See the sheep," said the guide, speaking for the 
first time and pointing to the cliff in front of us. 

To be sure, rudely carved by the hand of nature, 
crouching upon the very top of the cliff, was a repre- 
sentation of this meek animal. Some just ripening 
blackberries drew our attention as our eyes fell from 



LETTER ELEVEN. 143 

the cliff, as if to remind us that nature is not only 
grand but beneficent. At every step, the surroundings 
grew wilder, and Mr. P. told us we would soon reach 
the dark cave known as " Devil's Kitchen.'* 

" Yes, there's the old lady now ! " he exclaimed the 
next minute, as we caught sight of a female figure 
through the trees. 

A few yards brought us to the spot, and we 
found it worthy of its name. We entered the nar- 
row, gloomy recess, and pressed forward quite fear- 
lessly, till Mr., P. who was in advance, started back 
with well counterfeited terror, saying, — 

" Keally the old gentleman's at home, and I think 
we'd better not disturb him." 

Coming out, we formed the acquaintance of 
the woman whom we had seen through the 
trees. For want of her real name, and from the 
fact she is, every night, lulled to sleep by the mur- 
mur of a cascade in front of her dwelling, we will 
call her the Spirit of the Waterfall. She asked us to 
purchase as mementoes some little trifles spread on a 
table under a rude, bark-covered shed. Her voice 
was pitched at a key adapted to the vicinity of 
Niagara. After hearing these unearthly tones, and 
taking a peep into her bed-room, kitchen, or parlor 
(I don't know which she called it, but it was a match 
to the one attributed to His Satanic Majesty), I felt 
that she was a second " Witch of Vesuvius." Had I, 
like the noble Julia, been suffering from unrequited 



144 A BONE MILL. 

affection, I might have appealed to her for a love 
philtre. (Have you ever read Balwer's Last Days of 
Pompeii? If not, you can not understand this allusion. ) 
Well, a few stone steps led us from the old witch to 
the top of this hill ; and, then, a nice, nearly level 
winding road brought us to a diminutive building which 
proved to be a bone-mill. A ghastly heap of bones lay 
in one corner, a large wheel nearly filled the opposite 
side; a pair of scales hung near the center. We went 
in, and Mr. P. put in motion the old wheel by which 
the rude machinery is operated in crushing the bones. 
From this point we had to climb again, and when we 
reached the top, we found that the products of the old 
mill were not as far from market as we had supposed. 
Spread out before us was an extensive table land, and 
right by our path were two men at work, one plough- 
ing, the other sowing rye. Our way now widened 
out into a beautiful drive bordered on either side by 
pine trees. I noticed that these were smaller than 
those on the sides of the mountain, and that they 
were standing in resrular rows. I mentioned this to 
Mr. P., and he informed me that the law here requires 
a man to replace every tree he cuts down. This is a 
wase provision to prevent the destruction of forests, 
from which our own land must one day suffer. In the 
woods we saw a woman who had on her back one of 
those hideous baskets, more than full of the broken pine 
boughs. Go where we will, we can not escape this 
saddening spectacle. 



LETTEE ELEVEN. 145 

Suddenly our guide turned into a by-path on the 
left, and on following we were greeted by a most 
wonderful view. 

** The Felsen Meer" said our guide and no more was 
necessary. 

Its name, the Sea of Eocks, tells it all. 
Could the ocean in the moment of its fury be 
petrified — in the moment when its mighty waves 
are vying with each other in the attempt to 
reach the clouds, no grander effect could be produced. 
The overhanging rocky balcony from which we looked 
down upon this stilled ocean, was enclosed by a strong 
railing ; but this seemed so inconsonant with the scene 
that I crept under the railing and stood right on the 
edge of the precipice. Supporting myself by holding 
to a sturdy old pine, I gazed with deepened impres- 
sions upon the wonders of the Almighty Hand. Now, 
my dear brother, don't render yourself uneasy by sup- 
posing I am venturesome. True, if I had grown dizzy, 
I might have fallen down that fearful steep; but I 
have been accustomed from childhood to looking down 
from great elevations. I always delighted in climbing, 
when I was a little girl, and lived in that old home 
which now seems to me a castle in dreamland. 

But let us toss a few stones into the chasm, and pass 
on to something new. I forgot to say, a number of 
tourists overtook at us the Felsen Meer, and a colder 
looking set I never saw. They were all on horseback, 
and I pitied them for the want of energy, which pre- 
vented them from feeling as I did, the warm blood 

10 



146 THE SEA OF ROCKS. 

coursing joyously through every artery and vein. A 
few steps more brought us to the top, where a restau- 
rant offered refreshments for the weary traveler. 
But we were not weary, so we passed on. 

" I want to see this woman making lace," said Kate, 
as we came upon an old " frau " thus engaged. 

You have witnessed this process, so" I need not de- 
scribe it. We both bought something and told her we 
were Americans, and more than five thousand miles 
from home. She raised her hands, and exclaimed in 
German: — 

" Oh ? you will never get back. Once in my life, I 
went twenty miles from home, and I thought I would 
go crazy. What would I do, if I were as much as a 
hundred miles from here?" 

Time and language would fail me in the attempt to 
describe the view from the Bastei, the point we had 
now attained, and which rises abruptly six hundred 
feet above the tiny Elbe. Beyond this stream, Konig- 
stein and "Lilienstein, taller sisters of the Bastei, 
stand as if arrayed against each other, as they have 
been, indeed, once in their history. The former has, 
for centuries, been the stronghold of Saxony, or 
rather of Bohemia, and Napoleon once put its powers 
to the test. He tried in vain to scale its perpendicu- 
lar heights, and finally conceived the plan of attacking 
it from Lilienstein. With much difficulty he succeeded 
in planting upon this height three guns ; but this only 
brought new disappointment, for the force of his guns 
proved insufficient to send a single ball into the op- 



LETTER ELEVEN. 147 

posite fortress. So similar is the appearance of all 
these twisted rock masses along the Elbe, that it seems 
as if they might once have formed one level bed. But 
some mighty struggle has made a horrid rent in this 
part of Nature's earthly garment, and the thread- 
like stream seems intended to draw the raj>;o;ed edg-es 
together. 

But I am lingering too long on the Bastei. Saffice 
it to say, we sought out every point from which a 
view was to be had; tried the strength of our lungs 
in awaking the echoes; gathered souvenirs from the 
wildest spots; selected paths before untrod ; tore our 
dresses on the bushes and mended them up with pins ; 
and finally returned to our old friend, the boatman, 
who took us over to Eathan time enough to wait twenty 
minutes for our train. I was not at all tired, and 
thought we had had fun enough for one day, but the 
most amusing part was yet to come. Just as the train 
was within half second of starting, an old fellow, 
whom we had seen on the mountain, bolted through 
the door and alighted on the only unoccupied portion 
of our seat. So suddenly did he come, and so forci- 
bly did he plump himself down on the hard bench, 
that one might suppose some giant hand had hurled 
him from the precipice; but as soon as he had recov- 
ered breath, be told us he had been compelled to 
run. 

"And," he says, " I-am-a-a-little-fat," gasping 
between words. 

I wish I could make you see him. But for the 



148 VIEW FROM THE BALTIC. 

slight interruption of outline occasioned by his round 
head, short arms, and lower limbs, he would have been a 
perfect sphere of flesh. Indeed, his head looked as if 
it were attached by means of the yellow handkerchief, 
which filled the space between it and the body. I can 
not give you all the conversation which ensued between 
him and Mr. P. ; but through the medium of a hash 
composed of scraps of English and German tongue, 
he told us he was a school teacher from some unheard of 
place, and that one of his greatest delights was to col- 
lect rocks and antiquities. To illustrate this latter, he 
drew from his pocket a flint, which he said must be 
five thousand years old, and that some ancient German 
had doubtless used for a knife that long ago. A train 
of freight cars just then passed us laden with coal, 
and this suggested a new line of thouo;ht. 

*' Me and mine friend," said he to Mr. P., " own a 
hill two miles around, and full of the finest coal ; but we 
are both poor and can't get it out. Now, if you are a 
clever man and have got money, you had better go in 
with us and get richer." 

Mr. P., told him he was in Germany for only a 
short time, and could hardly risk an investment. 

*'But," said the old man, "England is not far 

ofe." 

Here Mr. P. told him we were all Americans, and, 
of course, there followed a series of questions in regard 
to our country, to which Mr. P. made such answers as 
must have given him a singular idea of our ways. 
Finally, they touched the woman question. 



LETTER ELEVEN. 149 

** Don't you think our American ladies handsome? '* 
asked Mr. P. 

"Beautiful," responded the old antiquarian, with 
an admiring glance. 

*' 1 don't like the German women, because they 
have to work alongside the dogs," said Mr. P. " We 
think too much of our women to let them do out-door 
work. Their hands are too pretty and white." 

Our friend shook his head with a skeptical air, 
whereupon, Mr. P. asked me to hand him the bouquet 
lying in my lap. I did so, not suspecting his design, 
till he said to the skeptic: — 

*' Didn't I tell you so? See the lady's hand." 

Now, for the first time, he spoke to me, and what 
do you think he said? You'll probably be as much 
surprised, as I was. 

** Madame, your husband is a jolly fellow." 

Kate and Brother laughed outright at this, while Mr. 
P. and I joined in the merriment. We did not tell 
him he was mistaken, but after observing us awhile 
longer, he said; — 

*' No, I don't believe she is jouv frau; she looks 
at you too kindly, and speaks too softly. You are 
only engaged." 

This was worse than ever ; Kate and Vachel enjoyed 
it, for every where we go, she is taken for Mrs. Lindsay. 
We didn't tell our interlocutor whether or not he was 
right ; but I was glad when the conductor announced, 
"Dresden." 



150 MUNICH. 

If a German is seen leaning on the arm of 
any gentleman, he must be her father, brother, 
husband, or accepted lover ; the Grerman had seen 
Mr. P., thus helping me up the mountain, hence his 
conclusion. 

Take it all in all, it was the most enlivening day we 
have spent since our visit to the Trossachs ; but I fear 
I weary you with minuteness of detail. I thought of 
you all the day, and wished you could be with us. 

EUDOKA. 



LETTER XII. 



Munich, October '6, 1875. 

Dear Brother Graham: 

tHE three months allotted, on our programme, 
to study in Dresden, have gradually trans- 
formed themselves from uncertain future into unchang- 
ing past; for the last time we have witnessed the stiff ; 
mechanical, nine o'clock bow of our German professor, 
for the last time we have feasted on Miss-S.'s " lufly 
American pie;" for the last time we have walked 
down Prager Strasse to be amused with the living 
curiosities always on exhibition there; and to-day 



LETTER TWELVE. 151 

Kate and I are in a city among whose one hundred and 
eighty thousand inhabitants we can not claim a single 
acquaintance. Our departure from Dresden on last 
Thursday at 12:40 was gloomy enough, for the rain 
was pouring down in regular American style ; but as 
we entered upon Bohemian territory the sky grew 
bright as if to welcome our coming. Our friend, Mr. 
P., kindly accompanied us as far as Bodenbach, helped 
us through the custom house ordeal, saw us comfort- 
ably seated in a train for Prague, and a second after 
waived us a last adieu as his car bore him rapidly back 
towards Dresden. 

The road to Prague extends along the left bank of 
the Elbe, the tunnel-forbidding rock masses on either 
side having constrained the engineer to follow the 
innumerable windings of this stream. The effect of 
these sudden and frequent curves is much like that of 
a revolving stereoscope ; the scenes do not gradually 
melt one into another^ but each is perfect in itself, 
seen for a moment, then gone forever. But Kate told 
you in her last of the rocks and glens of Saxon and 
Bohemian Switzerland, so I will not repeat. 

At a little after seven, the arrival in Prauue with its 
accompanying necessity of speaking enough German 
to order ourselves and baggage transferred as speedily 
as possible to the Englisher Hof, furnished enough of 
reality to dispel every romantic thought awakened by 
the scenes of the day. Early the next morning we 
started out to learn what we could of the city in one 
day. At the very door we met something which 



152 DEPARTURE FROM DRESDEN. 

reminded us that we were no longer in Dresden. It 
was the uplifted beseeching hands and eyes of an old 
shrivelled beggar woman. In Saxony, I have seen 
many a weaker woman energetically sawing wood, 
carrying coal, or drawing a wagon all day long, who 
would scorn begging so much as one dinner of potato 
pealings. I asked the old Bohemian what ailed her, 
but she seemed to think her silent supplication more 
effective and made no answer. How much we might 
have given her I can not say, but a servant came to the 
door and bade her begone, whereupon she moved off 
quite nimbly. 

*' Go first to the old Synagogue," advised our land- 
lord, " for later than ten you can not be admitted." 

We attempted to follow his directions ; but after go- 
ing first right, then left, then round a circle, we found 
ourselves in such a dark, narrow street that we felt 
somewhat lost. We were here encountered by two 
wagons laden with sacks nine feet long, which seemed 
to brush the walls of the houses on either side. We 
took refuge in a doorway, and waited in breathless 
suspense till they were past. Just then we caught 
sight of a man across the way, who looked so much 
like you that I felt a desire to form his acquaintance. 

" Please, sir, tell us where to find the old Jewish 
Synagogue," said we. 

"Well, come, and I will show you the way ; it is so 
far you could scarcely find it alone ; " and the nice old 
gentleman turned back on purpose to accommodate us. 

" Prague is a very old city, isn't it? " I asked. 



LETTER TWELVE. 153 

*' Yes, it was founded in the year 800, and the Syna- 
gogue is nearly seven hundred years old." 

"Are there many Jews here? " 

"Ten thousand, and more of their original customs 
are observed here than anywhere else. To-day is their 
New Year's feast, and you will see much to interest 
you. There ! that gray mass of stones, with an 
ungainly tower of red brick patched on above is the 
building for which you are seeking." 

It was half underground, and as we descended to 
the threshold, we felt as if entering a cave. To 
increase this impression, a noise as of some wild beast 
proceeded from within. Was it the roaring of a lion? 
There was scarcely enough of sublimity in the sound. 
Was it the barking of a wolf? The notes were too 
much prolonged. Yet, as we pushed through those 
standing at the door, we saw in the center a square, 
cage-like arrangement, from which the confusion pro- 
ceeded. I have often read of the Feast of Trumpets, 
but with the dingy cellar with its crumbling walls, 
instead of the magnificent temple of Solomon; with 
the solitary trumpeter, instead of the representatives 
of the twelve tribes, I failed to recognize the cere- 
mony. The blowing soon ceased, and then we had a 
reproduction of Babel. Every Jew (and there were 
several hundred) was covered with a square, white 
silken shawl bordered with black ; most of them had 
this drawn straight across their shoulders and flowing 
to the floor ; a few of the more devout pulled theirs 
up over their heads, or plug hats, rather, while a few 



154 THE OLD SYNAGOGUE. 

stylish young brethren had theirs arranged in the 
form of a graceful scarf. Each stood beside a high, 
narrow desk, on which his book lay spread open. As 
the trumpet was laid aside, every man began reading 
aloud; some read Hebrew, some read German ; a part 
read fast, a part read slow; this man read bass, that 
read a discordant soprano ; and every one kept time to 
his own music by swaying himself and his desk back and 
forth like a child learning his multiplication table. We 
thought it would be a pity to omit the final scene to 
the "Confusion of Tongues," but we withdrew our- 
selves from their midst. 

*' Here you ought to see the ladies before you leave,'* 
said an officious creature who met us at the door. Open- 
ing a side door, he told us to enter. We found our- 
selves in a narrow hall, on each side of which a long 
line of bright, dark eyes confronted us. Doubtless, 
previous to the interruption, these eyes had been busy 
with the pages of the book which lay in the lap of each. 
Through little loop-holes of windows in the wall, they 
could peep in upon the actions of the men, and thus 
know what passage to read. 

*' Now you must see the Friedhof " (Court of Peace), 
said our self-appointed guide. 

"You can not go in, but here is a view from this 
window. See, so thick as the stars in heaven, so thick 
are the time-blackened stones of this ancient burial 
ground." 

I didn't ask him for any comments, but the quota- 
tion gives you an idea of the conversational style of 



LETTER TWELVE. " 155 

Prague guides. He led us around till we came upon 
the Moldau, on the opposite side of which he pointed 
out to us the St. Veit's Dome and the Royal Palace, 
Charles, Bridge and the Belvedere Palace. Here 
brother offered him a few kreuzers as a reward for his 
information, and as a hint that we needed him no 
longer. 

"Thank you, Mr., but give me three times this 
much, because I must give a part to the church, a part 
to the poor, and have but little left for myself," said 
he, with a pious, self-denying look. 

Of course, we believed all this, and reluctantly 
parted with the worthy man. 

I would like to tell you of the very ancient St. 
Veit's Dome ; of the meek priest who showed us around 
the interior, pointing out a candlestick brought from 
Solomon's Temple (?), an altar or shrine made from 
cannons captured during the Hussite war, of the view 
of the hundred-towered city of Prague from the Bel- 
vedere ; but there is another feature of the Bohemian 
capital which will more frequently recur to my mind. 
As we were returning to the hotel we were suddenly 
surrounded by some half dozen boys — keen-eyed, 
well-dressed, intelligent little fellows — who began to 
tell us of the objects of interest. 

" This is the Russian Church. The Old Synagogue 
is open at four ! You can see the Friedhof , too I 
Here is the Teinkirche, with the tomb of Tycho de 
Brahe ! " came from all sides at once. 

*' Well, well, we've seen them all; what of it? " 



156 • JEWISH BOYS. 

"And the Clock of the Apostles,*' added all in a 
breath. 

" Well, yes, that's something new,*' I said, just for 
the sake of practicing German. " How many apostles 
are there ? ' ' 

*' Twelve," cried one, darting in front of me, feel- 
ing sure that he had earned a kreuzer by this bit of 
intelligence; *' twelve," echoed one at the right hand ; 
"twelve," came from the rear, where about that 
number were almost treading upon our heels. 

" What have the apostles to do with the clock? " I 
asked of the urchin in front. 

" Oh ! when the skeleton strikes with the hammer, 
they go all around that tower." 

" So ! Do they ride around or walk? '* 

*' They are not alive at all, they are wax figures." 

*' Well, we'll stop and wait till it strikes; but tell 
me this, is every boy in Prague a guide? " 

" Oh, no ! these others don't know enough to be 
guides ; but / can show you anything you want to 
see." 

I told him we did not need him ; but he still accom- 
panied us. 

"Do all the boys get rich by showing foreigners 
around?" I asked. 

"That depends upon how much the foreigner 
gives," responded he, while his face took that expres- 
sion of miserly expectation so uniformly characteristic 
of the mature Jew. 

Zurich, October 6. — Well, President, this was com- 



LETTER THIRTEEN. 157 

menced in Munich, and now we find ourselves, at the 
end of a day's journey, in Zurich, Switzerland, too 
tired and sleepy for writing. The only way we could 
get rid of the Prague boys was to leave them abruptly 
when we became weary of them, and I can think of no 
better way to treat their story. Kate and I have no 
difficulty in traveling alone, and feel that our time and 
money are being well spent. Friends may address us 
in care of the American Consul, Florence, instead of 
the banker. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER XIII. 



Munich, October 3, 1875. 
Dear Mother and Father; 

^ ATE and I have had a lunch of grapes and a bak- 
er's roll, and I feel so refreshed that I think I can 
write you a good, long letter before bedtime. This is 
my regular time for a letter to you, and I have no 
doubt you would be unusually anxious should I fail 
now to inform you of our whereabouts. We bade 
good-by to Vachel, at Prague, on Friday night, and, 
with some misgivings, set forth alone. We asked for 
a car in which no smoking should be allowed, and thus 



158 MUNICH. 

found a comfortable resting-place. There were three 
ladies in the car with us, but two of them soon got 
out. With the other I had some little conversation, 
which was interesting only from the fact that I found 
myself able to understand and be understood. At an- 
other station, a man got in with a cigar in his mouth; 
but when the conductor came around I reminded him 
of his promise, so he made the man throw it away. 
The seats were softly cushioned, and there was plenty 
of room to lie down ; but we were afraid to go to 
sleep, because there was a custom-house to be passed, 
where we must get out and attend to our buggage. I 
thought Pra2;ue was not far from the Bohemian and 
Bavarian line, and kept listening every minute for the 
conductor to announce "Furth," which I knew to be 
the border town. Finally, I inquired .how long we 
must yet travel before reaching this place. 

"In two and twenty minutes," I. understood the 
man to say, so we got everything in readiness to get 
out. Twenty minutes went by, and yet no Furth ; 
another twenty minutes, and the train stopped to wait 
half an hour. I supposed this to be the custom-house, 
and again prepared to dismount. The conductor, 
however, intercepted me, and told me it was not 
yet time, and that he would certainly tell me where to 
get out. Again, I asked when it would reach Furth, 
and he said : 

^^Af two and twenty minutes.** 
Now, this is bad German, and that is the reason of my 
mistake. He should have said, *' Five minutes after 



LETTEE THIETEEN. 159 

a quarter on three;" but he was so polite to me, I did 
not correct him. Thus satisfied, we took off our 
hats, tied our heads up in our veils, and fixed our- 
selves snugly for a nap. I know not what good angel 
presided over our slumbers, but we slept exactly two 
hours, then awoke just in time to get our hats on 
before the arrival at Furth. With fear and trembling 
we entered the baggage-room ; but, as there was no 
noise or confusion of any sort, we soon became suffi- 
ciently composed to recognize our trunks, and to 
imagine that the tall officer was eyeing them with sus- 
picion. 

" Sir," I ventured to say, *' there is nothing inhere 
but ladies' clothes." 

" So? " was the response. 

A "sub" stood by with a stamp ready for the 
package, if approved : and I was much rejoiced when 
with a preparatory lick, he applied one of these to my 
trunk. 

*' This one is filled with the same," I said, pointing 
to Kate's trunk. 

The " sub " looked inquiringly at his principal ; the 
latter shook his head slowly, then said meditatively: 
" * * I — reckon — perhaps — don't know — but — Well , 
put the stamp on ! " And so it was all over. This 
ease of getting through the custom-house is due to the 
fact we have no gentleman with us. Ladies are not 
supposed to carry cigars, the chief article requiring 
duty. 

We tarried here twenty minutes, then took a fresh 



160 MUNICH. 

start for Munich. The trains run rapidly here, and 
this the double tracks enable them to do with impu- 
nity ; but the rapid movement is accompanied by no 
little jolting. This caused our traveling companion 
to afford us considerable amusement. The jolting 
produced quite a commotion in her mass of flesh, so 
that we momently expected her dress buttons to meet 
with a catastrophe like that so frequently befalling 
David Copperfield's friend Pegotty. She saw our 
amusement, and laughingly expressed a fear of some 
such result, using a German almost as amusing as her 
appearance. But she proved useful as well as amus- 
ing; for she told us where to get off, Schwansdorf, 
and kept us company during the hours we were wait- 
ing there. She got off a little before we reached 
Munich, causing some uneasiness by telling us we 
would find Munich so crowded it would be difficult 
to find lodging. The crowd was to be down by the 
annual October " Folk's-fest," whose season was now 
upon us. 

At 11:30, without further adventure, we arrived in 
Munich, and were conveyed by droschke to Hotel 
Detzer, on Neuerhaus Strasse. The landlord smilingly 
greeted us at the entrance, asked how long we 
expected to stay, said he had room for us, and that 
dinner would be ready in half an hour. A vigorous 
use of soap and water, of comb and clothes brush, 
prepared us to join the party of guests at the dinner 
table. After dinner we studied the guide book till our 
plans for our three days' stay here were well arranged ; 



LETTER THIETEEN. 161 

then we took our map, and started out to unravel the 
tangled streets of a European city. Did we get lost ? 
Not a bit of it. We proceeded a few squares when 
we came to Marien Platz, near the center of the city ; 
crossing this, we passed under an arch formed by the 
lower part of a tower to the City Hall; on by St. 
Peter's Church, and stopped by the Isar Gate. This 
is a triumphal arch erected in honor of one King Lud- 
wig, after a victory in 1322. You remember in 
Campbell's poem, " The Battle of Hohenlinden," the 
line about "Isar rolling rapidly." This same Isar 
rolls through Munich, and not far away is that same 
battle-field. What a pleasure to find the dim concep- 
tions of childhood transformed into such living, moving 
realities as this Kiver Isar I 

Keturning from the Isar Gate to Marien Platz, we 
went north on Diener Strasse, past the post-office 
building, formerly the palace of a count. It is 
three hundred feet long, and has an open hall 
with twelve large columns. The inner wall of this 
hall, or porch, is painted bright red, and ornamented 
with the figures of six men training horses. The Eoy- 
al Theater is on the east side of the same square, and 
is an immense building, likewise ornamented with 
frescoes on the outside plaster. In the center of the 
square is a monument of Maximilian I., thirty-eight 
feet high. It represents the king sitting on his throne 
and in the act of giving the constitution. 

We were, by this time, tired enough to come home, 
stopping on the way to buy meat, bread, oranges, and 
11 



162 MUNICH. 

pears for our supper. We retired at half past eight, 
and did not wake till this morning at six — about ten 
hours' rest. 

At eight, we went to the Frauenkirche, just across 
the street. There are doors on every side ; but we 
were a little tardy, so we found them locked. We 
were not, however, the only tardy ones; and, as all 
who tried the door at which we stood, passed on around 
the church, we followed, thus obtaining entrance. We 
were in a perfect jam of German, tobacco-smoking, 
beer-drinking Catholics, but we stood our ground — 
yes, we did stand it, for every seat was filled, and the 
broad aisles crowded. A priest was preaching, and to 
him we listened, till he went across to the high altar, 
before whose golden front he knelt to mutter his invo- 
cation. I cared not to watch the process by which he 
should turn to real blood ( ?) the wine in the little 
goblet before him, for the celebration of mass had 
lost its charm of novelty, and, of course, I had no 
faith in its pretended powers. I wish I could describe 
this magnificent cathedral ; but weariness forbids. 

After services were ended, we walked out to the 
cemetery, which is crowded with handsome monu- 
ments. In one part of the cemetery is a semi-circle, 
or arcade, containing vaults of the wealthy. In one 
room of this is a place where the dead must remain 
several days before interment is allowed. It makes 
no difference what is the rank of the individual, he 
must allow his corpse to be thus brought to a level 
with that of the humblest citizen. We saw through 



LETTER FOURTEEN. 163 

the windows the ghastly faces of twenty-one mortal 
beings — more dead than I had ever seen in all my 
life before. Eleven of these stiffened forms bore 
traces of long sojourn among the living; the other ten 
had but begun to live when summoned to this strange 
assembly. Plain open boxes held the remains of each 
silent beshrouded one ; and over the pillowed heads 
and elapsed hands, flowers were wreathed in lavish 
profusion. On some faces the expression of a peace- 
ful slumber seemed in keeping with these brilliant 
garlands ; but others, distorted yet with their latest 
agony, seemed more fitted to a bed of thorns. The 
time may come when all else of Germany is forgotten ; 
but to my latest hour I can never forget this array of 
German dead. Eudoba. 



LETTER XIV. 



Zurich, Switzerland, Oct. 7, 1875. 

Dear Brother /South : 
lOi^T'ERE T the most romantic girl in the world, I 




could not desire a more lovely spot from which 
to write to my sweetheart. I have but to raise my 
eyes from the paper, and they fall upon a scene more 



164 ZUEICH. 

• 

beautiful than anything art can produce. Right below 
this balcony flows the Limmat, whose green waters are 
so clear I can see the pebbles at the bottom; and, so 
rapidly is it hurrying away to the Aar, that looking 
down a few minutes, you imagine yourself floating 
away with the current. The hotel is built over a 
bridge, so fancy readily transforms it into an ark, 
though how many righteous souls are in it, I know 
not. Two hundred yards further up the stream is 
another bridge, whose four stone arches seem designed 
to check the river in its mad career of stealing the 
waters from the lake. Over this bridge an uninter- 
rupted line of men and carriages seems to keep time 
with the ceaseless music of the stream. Beyond, 
unmoved by all this tumult, lies the lake itself 
enlivened by the sails of pleasure boats, the splashing 
oars of skiff-rowers, the fast-plying wheels of steam- 
ers. Beyond the twenty miles of water rise bright 
green hills covered with cottages and vineyards; 
above these, greater heights crowned with sturdy pines ; 
and farther yet, higher yet, right next to the clouds, 
are the glistening peaks of never-melting Alpine 
glaciers. And, now, as if to add a new charm to what 
already seems perfection, the moon throws down a 
few stray beams to be broken by the ripples into 
thousands. Unseen hands are brightening bridge and 
city with gas-light ; I must stop to light the candles. 

Is it any wonder, think you, I should choose this 
place and time for writing to my sweetheart? But 
pur "mutual friend" says I must not feel too sure 



LETTER rOURTEElSr. 165 

• 

that T possess such a treasure ; that he thinks you are 
trying to be true, but the struggle is sometimes tei-ri- 
ble. Be that as it may, just for to-night, I will 
believe your declarations; and that you would be 
happy sitting beside me on the balcony, looking with 
me upon the moon-lit water. I believe if you were 
here, you would forget all about past struggles, and 
think only of me. Perhaps, too, if you were with 
another, you would think only of her, forgetting my 
very existence. Perhaps you are so susceptible that 
it is only by constant watching you can make true 
to-morrow the protestations of to-day ; perhaps your 
nature renders you incapable of unswerving devotion ; 
but, just for to-night, I'll not think of all this. Some 
kind of a hero is indispensable to such surroundings, 
and I now think of none more fitting than yourself. 
To-morrow I shall be full of other things, practical 
affairs ; then, I can calmly consider the possibility of 
your being other than you seem. So, let me tell you, 
my good friend, how I have reached this place. 

October Qtii. — Well, I was just going to tell you 
how I reached Zurich; but before I had time to do so, 
I had to set out for Geneva, from which place I now 
write. We left Zurich yesterday morning at 6:40, 
and at ten reached the' picturesque city of Bern, 
Switzerland. We spent four hours in walking over 
the place, aud viewing the Alps from every possible 
standpoint. We have done almost nothing to-day, 
except study our guide-book and try to decide upon 
our course over the Alps. In Geneva itself, there is 



166 BAVARIAN COSTUME. 

not much to see except the lake and the distant moun- 
tains. We took a walk about four, but the atmosphere 
was too smoky to see Mont Blanc. But I must resume 
the history of my travels. 

From my last letter to President, you will learn 
something of our experience in Prague. There we 
parted with Yachel, just one week ago, and all alone, 
made the long journey to Munich. We were so fortu- 
nate as to arrive there at the time of a Peasant's Fair, 
and, next day, the streets furnished innumerable 
studies of the Bavarian costume. Here, we met a 
brave youth with his sweetheart by his side; there, a 
pair old enough to be their grandparents. Here we 
encountered an old lady puffing under excess of flesh ; 
there, an old man struggling to keep possession of the 
small amount of space required for bis attenuated 
body. Most of the youths had on flowered velvet 
jackets on which gleamed two semi-circles of large silver 
buttons. The head-dress of the young ladies is a 
handkerchief of black silk, woolen, or cotton goods, 
tied tight over the head with the embroidered corners 
hanging to the waist behind. The dress, just long 
enough to reach the tops of their stogy shoes, is 
generally of bright blue, green or purple, relieved by 
a bodice of black velvet trimmed crosswise with 
narrow white ribbon, and by a long, straight, broad 
apron of some contrasting shade. A fancy handker- 
chief for the shoulders, about two feet square, and 
dozens of strands of beads fastened around the neck 
by an immense square buckle, complete the outfit. 



LETTEE FOURTEEN. 167 

Those from Southern Bavaria, instead of the head- 
handkerchief, wear a broad-brimmed felt hat with a 
peaked crown, trimmed with a deep band of gold lace. 
You see, Bavaria is divided into cantons, and each 
canton has its own peculiar style of dress. In the 
cathedral, I saw one face and costume I shall never 
forget. I was standing in one of the broad aisles sur- 
rounded by a dense and motley throng, and, a little 
uneasily, I turned to see who was treading on my 
dress. By this movement was revealed to me the 
queer specimen of which I speak. I had to look down 
to see the face, so old and shrunken was the form 
belonging thereto. The forehead was just three 
broken lines; the cheeks were just two hollows of 
yellow, wrinkled skin ; the eyes were just two narrow, 
blinking openings half way between the chin and the 
edge of the thin gray hair ; the mouth was just a 
crowded cavity between the toothless jaws, which with 
a palsied-like movement, enabled the sunken lips to 
mumble the old creature's prayers. Back from the 
forehead the hair was drawn straight and tight, and, 
above it; was such a head-dress as you never saw. It 
was a band of brass, from the middle of which rose a 
comb-shaped piece, six inches high, all studded with 
imitation garnets, rubies, diamonds and pearls. To 
the ends of the brass band, black ribbons were 
attached and tied under the chin ; from the comb four 
streamers, five inches broad, fell to the waist. I have 
some photographs ; but, in point of incongruity, none 
of them come up to the reality. We went to the gal- 



168 A GERMAN FKIEND. 

leries, to the museum, to other places of interest in 
Munich, but nothing was better worth seeing than 
this unexpected exhibition of the peasantry. 

On Wednesday morning, at half past five, a rapping 
on our door announced that it was time to prepare for 
a journey. At half past seven, the " 'bus " was taking 
us to the depot. A young German was the only other 
occupant of this vehicle, and he showed us the unpar- 
alleled courtesy of asking if the smoke of his cigar 
w'ere offensive. "We were struck by this mark of 
politeness; but, at the depot, he gave us more sub- 
stantial cause for gratitude. When I went to buy my 
ticket, he was at the window. I had only French 
gold with which to pay, and at the hotel T had been 
allowed a premium on it ; but the ticket-master refused 
to allow me this value. 

*' Frauleiuj" said the stranger, " let me pay in 
paper, and I will take your gold at its real worth." 
Of course I could not decline this opportunity to save 
two or three dollars, so I consented. On the train we 
found ourselves again vis-a-vis with our friend, and I 
became further indebted to him for a lesson in Ger- 
man. He knew but two or three English words, so 
our conversation had to be carried on in German. He 
asked many questions about America, and, in return, 
gave us some information in regard to Bav.aria. It, 
like Saxony, forms a part of the great German Empire, 
over which Frederic William holds sway, and, like 
Saxony, has its own king. Ludwig (Louis) is his 
name, who, unlike, Albrecht of Saxony, is no soldier. 



LETTER FOUETEEN. 169 

He is a very handsome man, still young and unmarried, 
though he has once been engaged. He loves to be 
much alone ; goes to the theater where thousands are 
present, but sits in his box alone. 

" la short," said the young German, " he is an 
Idealist, who loves to please himself with his own 
thoughts." 

Like the Saxons, the Bavarians love their own king, 
and are embittered against the Emperor. 

At Lindau, on Lake Constance, we left cars for 
boat, and in one hour were borne across the lake to 
. Eorschah. This lake is larger, but far less picturesque 
than Zurich; but we enjoyed crossing it, for we feel 
at home on the waters. On the opposite bank our 
road diverged from that of the young German, so of 
him now we have left only a pleasing memory. Our 
way led us on to Zurich, to Hotel Schwert, where I 
wrote the first pages of this letter, and now I have 
told you how I reached that place. 

I can not yet tell you how I like Geneva, for we have 
seen it under the disadvantages of a rain. We are in 
a *' pension" (pronounced pon-se-own), where a great 
many elegant people are stopping; but we have been 
too busy to form any acquaintances. We have break- 
fast about nine, lunch at twelve, and dinner at six, 
which rather seems like turning the day upside down. 

Sunday Evening. — We went this morning to hear 
Pere Hyacinthe preach. We went with an American 
girl, who is likewise an inmate of this pension. A 
close carriage protected us from the rain, and we soon 



170 PERE HYACINTHE. 

found ourselves in presence of the gifted man, as he 
stood in his white robes, reading the service in a French 
so beautifully accented that even T could appreciate it. 
The attendants around the altar were dressed in ordi- 
nary garments, and throughout there was much more 
simplicity than in the usual Catholic service. "When 
he came forth from behind the altar, we could see bet- 
ter the outlines of his person, which is of a medium 
height, slightly corpulent, with short arms and small 
hands. His face is a perfect oval, his features reg- 
ular, his forehead practical, his head nearly bald on 
top, his complexion florid, his eyes not very dark. 
He spoke at first with deliberation, but gradually his 
manner became more animated, till he closed with a 
warm, and seemingly powerful exhortation. At the 
dinner table to-day, an old lady told Kate that he was 
married, at the age of forty-eight, to an American 
widow ten years his junior. He must be past fifty now. 
The lady was wealthy ; but through some misfortune, 
she has lost it all, and they are now supported by vol- 
untary contributions. His tiny audience-chamber was 
full to-day, and almost every one put in something as 
the plates were passed. I was pleased with his genial 
face, and should like to know him better. 

Three New York girls, who occupy the next room, 
are going soon to Leipsic, to attend school for two 
years. I almost envy them the opportunity of learn- 
ing so much ; but I am thankful for the privileges of 
this twelve months. I love to study, I love knowledge, 
and every year the acquiring of it becomes less diffi- 



LETTER FIFTEEN. 171 

cult. I hope the time may be far distant when I shall 
have to give up study altogether. I must close now 
with thanks for the geranium, which was quite crushed 
and broken, but fragrant still. I send you a rose given 
me in Zurich, by a bright-faced Schweitzer, who takes 
care of the cemetery there. I am anxious to get to 
Genoa, where I expect to find a letter from you. When 
we shall leave this place, depends upon the weather. 
If it is not raining in the morning, we propose to make 
an excursion to the Castle of Chillon. For the pres- 
ent adieu, 

EUDOBA. 



LETTER XV. 



Geneva, October 17, 1875. 
Dear Sister Flora: 

JTTT has been a long, long time since I have heard from 
^ any of you ; but it is my regular time to write, 
so I will not wait for news from home. I am growing 
almost uneasy at your silence, but I hope to find a let- 
ter awaiting me in Genoa. I have been, this morning, 
to the old cathedral in which John Calvin used to 
preach ; indeed, I heard a sermon from the same pul- 
pit in which he has often stood. We also walked past 
the old house which was his home from 1543 till 1564. 



172 MOUNT BLANC. 

The sermon was French, and I did not understand a 
word; but we looked around at the old stone walls, 
stained glass windows, and clustered columns, with an 
interest borrowed from their associations with the 
noted reformer. 

It has been more than a week since our coming here ; 
but, in the meantime, we have made quite an excur- 
sion to the mountains. We went, by diligence, from 
here to Chamounix, on Tuesday morning last, a dis- 
tance of nearly fifty miles to the soi^theast. A dili- 
gence is a kind of closed coach, with windows all along 
the sides, from which to observe the scenery along the 
way. Besides this, there are seats on top which are 
best for fine weather. The road over which we passed 
was a fine pike, in many places cut out of the rocky 
sides of the mountains, in many others extending, by 
means of handsome bridges, ovei rushing rivers. 
About one, we stopped for dinner, but, as we had taken 
lunch with us from the Pension Flaegel, we needed 
none. It was nearly dark when we finally reached Cha- 
mounix. This is a valley fifteen miles long, bounded 
on all sides by lofty mountains, and divided near the 
middle by a narrow, but noisy, stream called the Arve. 

We were met by the landlord of the Pension Couttet, 
and, following him, we were soon lodged for the night 
in a room whose window looked upon the majestic 
Mont Blanc. Next morning, the sun was so dazzling, 
we had to don our green veils before we dared to gaze 
upon the surrounding Alpine peaks. The landlord 
procured for us a guide and a mule for the day; and 



LETTER FIFTEEN. 173 

about ten we started to climb Mountaiivert. Kate 
and I rode by turns, each giving the other an oppor- 
tunity to rest, till we had traveled about eight miles. 
The mountain is only about a mile in height ; but the 
road is so winding it makes quite a journey to reach 
the top. At a small stone house, we found some 
refreshments, then made preparations for crossing the 
Mer de Glace (Sea of Ice). This is a mass of ice 
twelve miles long and from one to four miles broad. It 
has its origin in Mout Blanc, down whose sides it 
sweeps, then winds around through the deepest gorges 
of the chain, till it almost reaches the Yalley of Cha- 
mounix. It is well called a sea of ice ; for in its sur- 
face are crevasses fifty or sixty feet deep, resembling 
the waves of the ocean in a furious storm. 

From the little hotel, we had to descend some dis- 
tance over a narrow path between stones, first to the 
right, then to the left, till we reached the first wave of 
the stilled ocean. We had tucked our dresses up short, 
and put woolen hose over our shoes, to keep us from 
slipping into the frightful chasms revealed at every step. 
For three quarters of an hour we were traversing this 
icy way, when we came to the ascent of the opposite 
bank. One part of this steep is called the Mauvais 
Pas, where the only thing between you and destruc- 
tion is a succession of steps cut in the face of the rocky 
precipice. These steps are not more than one foot in 
w dth, and four or five inches in depth. An iron rod, 
however, fastened just in easy reach, furnishes a secure 
hold, so that one is in no real danger. But I shall 



174 LAKE GENEVA. 

write to President all the details of the trip, so I will 
trouble you with no more dry facts. I write this much, 
so you can understand what I write to him. It was 
seven o'clock when we got home, thoroughly drenched 
by a rain which poured upon us the last hour of our 
journey; but we soon had a bright fire, the servant 
took our clothes and dried them, brought us a good 
supper, then left us to enjoy it alone in our room. 
The last half of the eighteen miles Kate was so 
exhausted I had to let her ride all the time ; so you may 
know I felt the need of rest, especially as we had 
planned a similar journey for next day. 

For this new journey we employed the same guide 
and two mules. We were going to Martigny, over the 
pass of the Tete Noire. What we saw and endured 
that day, what fun we had, you will learn from my 
published letter. We stayed all night at Martigny, 
and till three and a half next day, then took cars for 
Chillon, on Lake Geneva. We did not know our 
station when we reached it, and the conductor did not 
tell us, as they do in Germany, so we were carried on 
a mile and a half beyond, to Montreux. We thought 
this quite a mishap ; but it proved to be a blessing in 
disguise. We tried to tell the ticket-master that we 
had been put ofi" at the wrong place ; but he under- 
stood neither English nor German. I stammered out, 
'< Pension Vautier," and pointed at our baskets. He 
understood this, and called a porter to take us to the 
place. We had gone about a square, when the ticket- 



Letter fifteen. 175 

master came running after us, saying in French some- 
thing about our tickets. We guessed that he wanted 
pay for the ride from our station to Montreux ; but 
how much we knew not. At that moment, a passer-by 
noticed our dilemma, and, intones of dear old English, 
asked if he could render assistance. Thus unexpect- 
edly were we provided with an interpreter, just when 
it was the very thing needed. The extra charge was 
only a few cents, and, promising to pay it to the por- 
ter, we were allowed to proceed. We knew nothing 
about the house to which we were going, only that it 
was recommended by our guide-book. It was a long 
walk up hill ; but, at last, the porter stopped before a 
brightly lighted hall, and a nice, motherly-looking lady 
in a black cap, met us at the door. We asked for a 
room with two beds, but her response was in French. 
Here was another tough place ; but she said something 
and disappeared a moment to return with a modest 
sweet girl, who immediately charmed us by her ability 
to speak English. She said they had just one room, 
but it was engaged for next morning early. 

" Very well," I said; " wake us early as you please, 
only let us stay all night." 

Thus, we " came in one " of having to hunt 
another place. Our room was delightful, and, 
when we went down to supper, we found that 
which made our happiness complete. We had eaten 
nothing since ten o'clock, and then the quality of the 
food caused us to eat sparingly. On the preceding 
day, we had fared no better, so of the " sauce of hun- 



176 AN OLD CASTLB. 

ger " we had no lack. There were two tables the full 
length of the dining-room, and these were being fast 
filled by elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. Silks, 
laces, grenadines, diamonds, wit, — all were well 
enough; but we gave them not a second glance till our 
appetites were somewhat appeased. Graham bread, 
white bread, crisp toast, cold meat, eg^ omelet, pre- 
served fruits, fresh butter, rich cheese, fragrant tea, 
constituted the bill of fare ; and we did ample justice 
to all. 

We did not repair with the rest to the drawing-room ; 
for we had given directions to be waked at half past 
five, and to have our. breakfast at half past six, and 
we must retire without delay. This programme car- 
ried out, with one of the delightful rolls from the 
breakfast-table in the pocket of each, ready for our 
lunch, we started back to Chillon, unencumbered by 
baggage, for we had ordered that sent to the wharf in 
time for the boat at half past nine. 

Have you read Byron's "Prisoner of Chillon?" 
If so, you know something about the old castle which 
we intend to visit. This castle is built on a great rock 
near the northeast bank of the lake of Geneva. It 
has seven or eight towers, part round, part square, 
and underneath is a dungeon dug into the rock below 
the water. In this dark place, in the year 1530, Bon- 
nivard was imprisoned, and, for six years, was chained 
to one of the seven pillars dividing the gloomy space. 
The stone floor around this pillar is worn out by his 
footsteps to the depth of four inches. On this same 



LETTER FIFTEEN. 177 

pillar is the name of Byron cut by his own hand. The 
walls of the prison are more than three feet thick, and 
the only light comes from openings not more than six 
inches wide, and even this space is darkened by an 
iron bar. In the upper rooms of the castle are kept 
cannons and other military supplies, except in two rooms 
which are vacant. These were the chambers of the 
Duke and Dachess of Savoy, and are even ruder in 
appearance than those of Mary Queen of Scots. Your 
humble little bed-room is much nicer than those the 
nobility of the tenth century had to occupy. We left 
the castle at half past eight, having begged of our 
guide a tiny flower as a souvenir of the place. We 
walked to the boat landing, and had to wait about a 
quarter of an hour for our steamer, the Cygne, which 
moved with great deliberation over the wonderfully 
blue waters of the lake. We found on board a gray- 
haired English gentleman whom we had left at Cha- 
mounix, and with him we chatted till he got off at 
Lausanne, about half way to Geneva. Another, who 
claimed to be an Englishman, said he was on his way 
home from the East Indies. He said, as it was about 
time for the Prince of Wales to come there on a visit, 
he left ; because it would not do for two such great 
men to be there at once. This speech had so much the 
tone of America in it, that I began to doubt his pre- 
tensions to any other nationality. 

At every few miles, along the northern bank of the 
lake, is some pretty little village surrounded by pro- 
lific vineyards. It took us till half past two to get 

12 



178 GENEVA. 

here, and we expect to leave, to-morrow, for Genoa, 
Italy. There is too much snow to go over any one of 
the passes, so we shall go through Mt. Cenis Tunnel 
on the cars. We are gctling on quite as well 
■without Vachel as we did with him. We miss his 
company, of course, but that is all. We heard from 
him yesterday, and he is in good health, good spirits, 
and is making good progress. Please write very 
soon to, 

EUDOEA. 



LETTER XYI. 




Geneva, Switzerland, October 18, 1875. 

Dear Brother Graham: 

■4. ATE'S letter, a week ago, "was written from Gen- 



—^^ eva, but we have been far from spending the 
whole seven days in this rather uninteresting city. 
The first Sunday sufficed to see and hear Pere Hya- 
cinthe ; another two hours and we had visited the old 
Cathedral, whose walls were once familiar with the 
voice of Calvin; a short walk from the Cathedral 
door brought us to the house where he lived and died ; 
a few squares down the hill and we reached the banks 
of the Rhone, near enough Rousseau's Island to dis- 



LETTER SIXTEEN. 179 

cern through the trees the bronze statue of the 
sophist; a half day satisfied us with gazing upon the 
glittering contents of jewelers' windows, and enabled 
us to invest all our " spare change," and then Geneva 
was quite " done up." 

But the dream-like view of the white-veiled Juno- 
frau from Berne, the faint glimpse of Mont Blanc 
from Geneva, and the mental picture of Alpine 
grandeur derived years ago from Childe Harold, in- 
spired us with a desire to approach nearer these -won- 
ders of creation. 

*' But is it not too late to venture into the moun- 
tain region?" we asked of the polite servant who 
showed us to our room the first of our stay at the 
Pension Flaegel. 

'* No, Miss, I think not, people are still going." 

This same question Kate put to a middle-aged Irish 
lady next morning at the breakfast table. 

" Of course it is," was her reply. 

" You'd freeze. Do you want to go to Italy? ' 

"Yes," said Kate. 

" Well, you can go through Mt. Cenis Tunnel ; 
that's the shortest way. 

We told her we had heard of the tunnel, but would 
prefer going over a pass in order to see the moun- 
tains. 

"Over a pass? Oh! I've been over all them. 
They are very nice but awfully bothersome. ^^ 

"You know all about the great St. Bernard?" in- 
quired Kate, growing interested in the " old traveler." 



180 MOUNTAIN PASSES. 

'*No, I never saw that." 

''The Simplon?" 

*' I never have been there either.'''* 

Kate relapsed into silence, wondering what the old 
lady meant by " all the passes." At every meal, with 
seemino; delioht, she ao;ain assured us that we must re- 
linquish the hope of going nearer Mont Blanc. 

"It's getting colder every hour," said she on Mon- 
day morning. 

We felt the truth of this, and so did our aged, bald- 
headed friend, who just now came in snuffling and 
shivering. 

*' I tell you I want another room," said he in quer- 
ulous German to the French waiter, "the wind came 
in on my head last night till I was nearly frozen." 

" Did you say you would take coffee, sir?" inno- 
cently asked the waiter, at the close of his tirade. 

" Yes, I want coffee, but I say you must give me 
another room, or I'll leave the house," said the old 
man growing warmer with anger. 

*'Yes, sir, I'll bring it directly," and as the boy 
hurried away, our friend, in exasperation, drew his 
woolen cap down close over his bare scalp, and stuffed 
his shaking hands into the breast of his great coat. 

A Scotch lady, across the table was affectionately 
clasping her fingers around the warm coffee-pot. 
♦' Don't you think this cold rain in the valley is ac- 
companied by snow on the mountains? " I asked of her. 

' ' Oh I I know it. The Jura chain is all white this 
morning." 



LETTER SIXTEEN. 181 

*' Don't you think it is too late to go over a pass into 
Italy?" 

"No, indeed, they go all winter in sledges," she 
answered briskly. 

Thus we had consulted Irish, German, and Scotch 
authorities on the weather question, and yet were un- 
decided. At this juncture we fell in with three Amer- 
ican girls who had been to Chamounix only a week 
before. 

" Go, by all means," was their enthusiastic advice, 
*' we were cauo-ht in a hail storm while crossing the Mer 
de Glace, but it was lovely." 

Without further delay, we bought diligence tickets, 
and at 7:40 Tuesday morning began the fifty miles 
journey between Geneva and Chamounix. 

The scenery for fifteen or twenty miles is not 
especially noteworthy ; but we found ample amuse- 
ment in our study of human nature. One of our 
companions wore the broad brimmed black hat and 
sable gown, characteristic of the Catholic monk. I 
know not whether it was his vigils, his fastings, his 
flagellations, or his arduous labors which had developed 
him into such a mass of flesh, but I do know that 
he filled one-fourth of the coupe. From the moment 
of starting till he left us at Booneville, he was busily 
repeating a prayer or something to himself, ever and 
anon refreshing his memory by reference to a little 
book which he held in his hand. I do not know that 
he was praying for the clouds to depart, but, at any 
rate, the sun came out about nine, dispelling at the 



182 A JOLLY TRAVELER. 

same time the mist from the mountain tops and our 
last misgivings in regard to the weather. As the 
" Holy Father" disappeared amidst the greetings oi 
his flock at B., a ludicrously diminutive personage 
hopped into the coach and perched himself upon the 
vacant seat. 

" Plenty of room ! plenty of room ! " said he fuss- 
ily, spreading his traveling blanket over himself and 
two or three of his neighbors. 

*' Here's what's good friends," he exclaimed, as, 
with a patronizing air, he flourished a bottle of wine 
in their faces. 

" But it's sealed," suggested one of the spectators. 

"What of that!" and with an expression of cer- 
tainty that his forethought must command admiration, 
he threw back his black coat, thus displaying the 
pocket of his rusty brown vest from which protruded 
a cork-screw, a box of matches, and a comb, between 
whose teeth there was not room for a single hair to 
pass. 

" That's not all yet," said he, and with a wink of 
self -approbation, he produced half a dozen packages 
of the most forbidding cigars. 

" Let's have a smoke," and he generously off*ered 
each gentleman one of the tempting bits of tobacco. 
We breathed more freely when all declined, and he, 
much disappointed, began again to tie up the bundle, 
keeping only one out for his own use. Luckily he 
was for some time deterred from lighting this by the 
difficulty of wrapping three hundred cubic inches of 



LETTER SIXTEEN. 183 

tobacco in one hundred square inches of paper. Get- 
ting one end covered, he would attempt to adjust the 
string, when the cigars would roll out at the other ; 
making this secure next time, they would tumble to 
the floor in another direction. Finally some one gave 
him a larger paper, and now we prepared ourselves to 
endure the sickening smoke; but as he were searching 
for his matches, a new idea crossed his small brain. 
A hugh brass chain dangled from the button-hole of 
his vest, and he now drew from its hiding place the 
elegant watch attached to the other end. He looked 
at it a minute, then at the sun, then held it to his ear, 
shook it vigorously, and said, as if surprised : — 

«* The thing's stopped ! " Some one handed him a 
key with which to set it a going; but as dumb' 
watches are a little troublesome to wind up, he failed 
in the attempt. At length the cigar was lighted, and 
we turned our heads to the open window, but after 
two or three puffs the queer creature fell asleep and 
let the fire die out. 

Another of our companions was a woman whose 
yellow, wrinkled skin, deep frilled black silk cap, 
short gray woolen dress, and wooden shoes, proved 
her to be one of the peasantry of Savoy. She had 
come with us about ten miles when, at a little village, 
she asked the driver to let her out. A man whose 
face bore the marks of care and age stood ready to 
receive her. He was clothed in a style peculiar to this 
region : pants loose, straight and shapeless ; hat 
slouched and well-nigh brimless ; blue cotton blouse. 



184 MOUNTAIN SCENES. 

soiled and beltless. With his hands in his pockets, 
I never saw a more unromantic specimen, so I was 
wholly unprepared for the scene which ensued. As 
the woman descended from the vehicle, he received 
her with open arms, embraced and kissed her warmly, 
and both began weeping aloud with joy. You see she 
had been ten miles from home, and he had never 
expected her to get back safe from such a distance. 
The last I saw of them she was industriously wiping 
her eyes with her red Sunday handkerchief, while he 
was using the sleeve of his blouse for the same purpose. 
Bat traveling in a diligence affords so much leisure 
for observing persons and things that I have quite 
filled my letter before getting half way to Chamounix . 
The road itself was an interesting study, being, as it 
is, a dry, smooth and safe highway through marshy val- 
leys, along steep rocky mountain sides and over-rushing 
rivers. We passed many an apple-laden orchard on 
the way, where men and women, boys and girls, don- 
keys and baskets were busy gathering in the fruit; 
we passed many a herd of sheep or cattle watched 
over by a woman, who stood knitting all the 
while. At one village inhabitants were assembled 
for a merry-making, and were *« tripping on as light 
fantastic toes" as wooden shoes would admit; at 
another it was wash-day, and the female part of the 
population were collected around the common pump, 
soaking the soiled linen in the large stone basin of 
cold water, rubbing it with their red hands or pound- 
ing it on the rough stones. Amidst such novelties the 



LETTER SIXTEEN. 185 

day did not seem long, and our patience did not fail, 
though our driver stopped for a friendly chat at every 
roadside inn. It was quite dark when we reached the 
" vale of Chamounix," and Kate must tell you how 
we felt at opening our eyes next morning upon Mont 
Blanc. 

Genoa, October 20. — I have purposely kept my 
letter that I might tell you of our safe arrival here. 
"We reached here about noon yesterday, and after 
lunch started out to find the American Consul. The 
streets are so narrow and dark, the people have such 
black eyes, and they look at one so hard, that, for the 
first time, we felt a little nervous at being alone. It 
was after office hours, so we had to go back again to- 
day to see the Consul. We found some broader 
streets, and as nobody tried to harm us, we began to 
feel a little bolder, and after a pleasant interview with 
Mr. Spencer, his wife, son and daughter, we gained 
sufficient assurance to visit two palaces and the Campo 
Santo (cemetery) this afternoon. Mr. S. had just 
returned from Milan where he was present at the 
entrance of the German Emperor on Monday. We 
might have gone there to meet his Majesty, only we 
didn't care about paying thirty francs a night for 
lodging. We start for Florence to-morrow or next 
day. Address us in care of the American Consul 
there, for if he is as agreeable as the one in Genoa, we 
will be glad of an excuse to call on him. 

EUDORA. 



186 FLOEENCE. 



LETTER XVII. 



Florence, Italy, October 26, 1875. 

Dear Brother South: 

'ESTERDAY, we went to the bank of Emanu- 
elle Fenzi, and there found a whole package of 
letters, among others two from yourself. These, with 
the one found at the consulate in Genoa, make three to 
be answered in this one. The banker gave us the 
precious package, and then asked us to sit down and 
read them while he should change some money for us. 
I first read my home letter, for I was anxious to hear 
whether or not Brother J.'s wedding had come off at 
the expected time. How sorry I am not to have been 
with my dear Brother in the first hours of his wedded 
bliss ; but his affection for me has always been so 
warm, I know he will be atender and devoted husband. 
Indeed, if my future husband proves to be as kind 
and attentive as my brothers have always been, I shall 
be quite content. 

F. said in her letter she was expecting you down 
soon, and seemed quite happy in the anticipation. 
Dear child ! she is lonely enough without me, and I 
thank you for cheering her by a visit. She doesn't 
care much for the society of most girls of her own 



LETTEE SEVENTEEN. 187 

age; because, she says, *' they are always talking of 
beaux, or some such nonsense.'* She needs the com- 
panionship of one who can appreciate her feelings and 
sentiments. I remember the unsatisfied longings of my 
own nature at her age. But Providence has dealt 
kindly with me in the gratification of my most ardent 
desires, and I believe the same Good Father will pro- 
vide for her. But here I am, discussing family matters 
with you again, a subject upon which I used never to 
speak to any one but Vachel. 

I saved your letters till last, and shall answer some 
questions among their contents, but first shall tell you 
how we arrived in Florence. Well, we left Genoa, on 
Friday, Octobea: 22nd, at a few minutes past one p. m., 
and reached Pisa that evening at seven and a half. 
Next day, we went to the Leaning Tower, and climbed 
to the top without upsetting the old structure. We 
also visited the Cathedral, the Baptistery, and the 
Campo Santo, all on the same square with the Tower. 
That same evening we took the cars for this place, 
reaching; here at 9:30. We came at once to the Hotel 
Pension Suisse, where we took a room for three days 
till we could look around and find a permanent home. 
The next morning was Sunda}'", so we searched out 
the American Union Church, where we attended ser- 
vices. I think the pastor is a Methodist. He came 
round and gave us a cordial greeting. He preached a 
very good sermon on the sentence, " He is able," 
except he put too much stress on God's power and 



188 FLORENCE. 

too little on man's work. They have Sunday School 
at ten a. m., and I think we shall attend. 

But, now, I want to give you the rest of our exper- 
ience at Chamounix. Kate is writing it for the Times; 
but I want to give more of the particulars. My letter 
to President takes us to the Pension Couttet, in one 
of the three villages which adorn the valley. We 
found at the hotel an Australian who had been there 
for two days waiting for suitable weather to climb the 
mountains ; but we told him we had been everywhere 
blessed with sunshine, and felt sure it would come to- 
morrow We did not really feel so sure^ but, next 
morning, when we found our prediction verified, we 
said to the Australian, 

<' Well what do you think of the weather?" 

He looked suspiciously at the sunlight, viewed 
through a field glass the rising mists, and said with an 
air of despondency, 

*'You can't trust to appearances at Chamounix in 
October." 

Rather discouraged by his heartless, lazy tone, I 
begged him to inquire the landlord's opinion. 

" You can go anywhere you please, to-day," was his 
prompt response. 

Now, the Australian wanted to make the same 
excursion as we did; we told him we could not speak 
a word of French, and feared we could not make the 
chief of the guides understand us; we hinted, in every 
polite way, that a little assistance would call forth our 



LETTER SEVENTEEN. 189 

gratitude; but he wouldn't take a hint. I am sure an 
American gentleman would have offered to employ 
for us a guide when at the office seeking one for him- 
self. Finally, I asked him to please tell the landlord 
to order for us an English or German-speaking guide 
with one mule. This he managed to do in a half 
reluctant way, and, with a poor opinion of English 
gallantry, we began preparations for the ascent of 
Montanvert. All in readiness we began to look 
impatiently for the coming of our guide ; and, at last, 
passing into the kitchen to try some gesticulatory 
inquiries, we found there a rather small, respectable 
looking nan, seemingly about thirty-five years of age. 
Eaising his white hat, he stood waiting for us to address 
him. 

"We asked the landlord to send us a guide," we 
said. 

*' Yes ; I be he," was his reply, " I be ready half 
an hour. Madam." 

We were delighted with his English and his honest 
face, and expressed our anxiety to set out. Kate 
mounted the mule ; we stopped at a little shop to buy 
our iron-tipped mountain-sticks; and then with the 
mule led by the guide in advance, myself and a small 
boy in the rear, the procession started. We had not 
bargained for the boy; but Monsieur Balmet (our 
guide) declared him an indispensable auxiliary. The 
mule merely walked, but I found it a little difficult to 
keep up with him, so I fell back under the pretense of 
gathering Alpine plants. I have often heard of ' « wind- 



190 MONTANVEET. 

ing mountain roads," but never before had any concep- 
tion of the term. We had to go half a mile to the left, 
then, making a sudden turn, go as far to the right, to 
find ourselves, by this mile of travel, but ten feet 
nearer the top than before. 

"Are you not tired. Madam?" asked M. Balmet, 
as T overtook them awaiting me at the end of the first 
mile. 

"Yes; I should like to ride, but how am I to get 
up?" 

"Oh, easily enough," said he helping Kate to dis- 
mount. " Here, put your foot m my hand, take hold 
of the pommel — now ! one, two, three, — up ! " and, 
sure enough, I was up. I know Lord Chestei'field, 
says that is the way to help a lady into the saddle ; but 
I never saw it tried before. 

Little by little we crept up till M. B. announced : — 

" We arrive at half way to Montanvert." 

"And we are now above the pines," I suggested; 
" let us stop to get a view." 

"Yes, Miss," said the guide; for he had heard Kate 
call me miss, and now corrected his mistake in the 
use of "madam." By the way, my bill at every 
hotel is made out to " Mrs. Lindsay ; " but we never 
tell them any better, for there is a kind of protection in 
the title "Mrs., " or *' Madam." 

The view from our half way station was full of com- 
bined grandeur and beauty. Three thousand feet 
below lay the Vale of Chamounix, a bright, green , 
spring-like spot, shut in by wintry mountains. On 



LETTER SEVENTEEN. 191 

the southwest is the Mont Blanc chain, on one of which 
we now stood; on the northwest, the Red Needles, 
whose sharp red peaks rose up in marked contrast with 
the white summits beyond. Opposite us a zigzag path, 
showing the course by which the tourist must ascend 
the Filegere, seemed a photograph, or mirrored 
image of the one over which we were passing. From 
the Col de Balm, the north guard of this cherished 
vale, came dashing down the waters of the Arve, which 
are met by the Arveiron, a tribute from the Mer de 
Glace. So impetuously do they rush over their stony 
bed, that all the way to the mountain top the sound 
lingers in the ear, at first, distinct as thunder, then 
o-rowing; fainter and fainter till but a murmur 
remains. 

" We mustn't wait too long," broke in the voice of 
Balmet, " the sk}^ is getting covered; the fine weather 
may be gone before an hour. The boy may lead the 
mule, and you may take my arm, Miss to help you 
along," said he, as we started on. 

I did so, and we chatted along quite socially. Find- 
ing we were from U. S. A., he said : — 

" I have a brother in Newville (Louisville), Ky." 

He was quite pleased to learn that Kentucky was our 
native State. He also informed me that he had a wife 
and children in the valley, that he attended school in 
the. winter to improve his English, etc. 

Alternately walking till weary, then riding till rested, 
we reached the little stone house at the top of Montan- 
ert, where refreshments were offered. 



192 MER DB GLACE. 

*' We'll take coffee, if you have it," was our first 
order. 

"Yes, we have coffee, but no milk to put in it," 
answered the master of ceremonies. 

*' Well, we'll take beefsteak without coffee," was 
our next decision. 

*' We haven't beefsteak, but we have mutton chop," 
was the reply. 

You see the top of a mountain is not the best 
place in the world for an extensive bill of fare; 
but we ate what we could get, and paid well for 
it, too. We shook the snow from our skirts (it was 
six inches deep up here); dried our feet; bought 
some pieces of woodwork as mementoes, and felt little 
inclination to leave the fire. 

"We must go now," declared M. B., and we fol- 
lowed him to the door. 

" Snowing 1 we both exclaimed in one breath. 

"Yes," said B. gravely; I fear we must have 
another guide to cross the Mer de (r/ace in this storm." 

"Is it dangerous?" I asked; "if so, we can go 
back to Chamounix, by the road we came. We wish 
to take no risks." 

"Oh! no; it isn't dangerous," said he, fearing to 
lose three francs by our adopting this course. " It 
isn't dangerous, but we must go very slowly; fori 
must take one over a bad place, then come back after 
the other." 

"Is that all? I think we'll risk going with you 
alone.'* 



LETTER SEVENTEEN. 193 

He was disappointed, but said no more. We were 
now on the borders of the ** Sea of Ice," which has its 
source in the many glaciers of the Mont Blanc chain. 
From every deep gorge proceeds a frozen stream, and 
these unite above the Montanvert into a broad expanse 
of motionless billows, which sweep down between the 
river peaks to the very edge of the valley. 

' ' How far is it across ? ' ' was our query. 

"A mile, besides the moraines on each side — see 
those two men have just passed over," said he. 

Sure enough; there was our Australian, but so far 
awa}^ his rather corpulent form was dwindled down to 
that of a school-boy. 

" We are ready to go I " said we, excited to see some 
one else had already just accomplished what we were 
about to undertake. The snow was falling faster, and 
we were glad of it; for there is a spirit of wild 
romance about a storm in the Alps. 

" Walk carefully now," admonished our guide, and 
surely there was need. 

Stones brought down by long-ago avalanches formed 
the moraines, and between these a path, sprinkled 
with ashes, led down to the edge of the icy sea. 
The snow did not hide the view, but aided the imasfina- 
tion by making it limitless. 

"Take Kate's hand, and I will follow in your 
steps," was my direction to B., as we stepped on the 
crest of the first wave. 

On each side of the narrow path yawned a blue 

18 



194 MANVAIS PAS. 

crevasse fifty feet in depth. There was need now of 
all my boasted freedom from dizziness. 

"Wait, Miss, and I'll come back after you," said 
the careful guide. 

I made no reply, but when he had found a safe place 
for Kate to stand, and turned back, he exclaimed; — 

" What ! here? You walk the glacier well." 

Almost immediately another giddy' passage opened 
before us, and as I made that alone, he pronounced 
me quite a mountaineer. Only once on the glacier, 
and once on the opposite moraine, was it necessary 
for him to give me assistance, so the other guide would 
have been a needless expense. 

Once over the frozen ocean, we made our way by 
an easy path to the Chapeau, a limestone precipice on 
which stood a little hut. We paused now and then to 
gather mosses from the shadow of some great rock, 
till B., tired of our loitering, called to us that we were 
on dangerous ground, for often rocks came tumbling 
down from above large enough to crush us instantly. 
We looked up at the mountain sides of solid stone, down 
which babbling brooks were hastening to the delights 
of Chamounix, and found it hard to believe his words, 
but we quickened our pace any way. 

" We arrive now at the Manvais Pas " (Bad Pass) 
said M. Balmet. " Catch hold of the iron rod, and 
follow me; I can't help you now." 

This view I can never forget. Had we fallen, the 
cold bosom of the Glacier des Bois would have received 



LETTER SEVENTEEN. 195 

us; immediately enclosing us were dark, damp, stony 
precipices; while far behind stood the cold white sum- 
mits, with which, two hours before, we had been face 
to face ; but in front of us, a pure white mist was ris- 
ing from the valley, concealing all the ruggedness of 
our remaining journey. It was like the veil which 
hides from us the difficulties of the future. 

'* Fifty minutes, now, will bring us to the mule,'* 
said the guide. The boy had taken the animal back 
from Montanvert, and was now, no doubt, awaiting us 
below. Kate was now well nigh exhausted, and, even 
with the help of Balmet's arm, dragged herself along 
with difficulty. 

*' Miss, I can carry you," suddenly proposed the 
guide, and stepping down below the rock on which she 
was standing, he turned his back. I tried to induce 
her to mount this novel steed, but she positively 
refused. A musical tinkling of bells just then 
attracted my attention, and looking up, its source 
became evident. A triple line of goats, with mein 
and step as grave as those of the cows whose place they 
fill, were following us towards home. I counted 
thirty, when the growing darkness made it necessary 
to watch my steps. 

We found the mule at the entrance to the forest, 
and I made Kate ride the rest of the way home. 

" Kate,, how do you feel I " was my first question 
next morning. 

" Oh ! oh I oh ! o-o-oh I " was the response, as she 
tried to turn over. 



196 MAETIGNY. 

I felt that way too.; but we decided that, at all 
events, we must go to Martigny that day. We 
dressed, packed our bundles, ate breakfast, discusi^ed 
the weather with some newly arrived tourists, sent our 
guide for two mules, paid our bills, and said "good- 
by" to M. Couttet. You should have seen us start. 
Behind my saddle, my basket was fastened; at the 
side, three umbrellas, one of them of blue cotton, the 
property of M. Balmet ; from another point of at- 
tachment, dangled two shawl straps; so, when I was 
mounted, there was very little mule left visible. Kate 
was scarcely less ludicrous in appearance. If we may 
judge from the number of smiling faces we met that 
morning, the people of Chamounix are a happy, con- 
tented fraternity. My steed didn't wish to go to 
Martigny. I told him to " get up," but he didn't 
understand English. I tried to say "He!" like the 
guide, but my accent must have been faulty; finally, 
I secured an interpreter in the form of a small branch 
from one of the native pines, and, from that time, he 
understood my meaning. 

But we must make ready now to leave the Hotel 
Pension Suisse, to establish ourselves in our new 
lodgings, so my narrative must here be broken off. 

EUDOEA. 



LETTER EIGHTEEN. 197 



LETTER XVIII. 



Florence, Italy, October 31, 1875. 
Dear Brother Elijah: 

two weeks ago, I was in Geneva, and from that 
city wrote a letter to F. Now, I begin to feel at 
home in Florence, and I will tell you how we went about 
getting us a home here. Leaving the bank, where we 
had read our letters from home, we repaired to the 
Consulate. In Geneva, the consul had received us so 
cordially, introducing us to his wife and daughter, 
that we expected a similar greeting from the consul 
here. In answer to our call, however, a tall, large, 
black-eyed individual came into the room, and, in very 
broken English, declared himself at our service. We 
had intended to make several confidential inquiries 
about the propriety of taking lodgings and eating at a 
restaurant; about the customs of Italian ladies; about 
the safety of our going on the streets alone ; but we 
felt sure this could be no countryman of ours. Every 
American whom we meet is ready to render any assist- 
ance, and we feel free to ask of them any questions 
whatever. Well, we asked the gentlemen if he could 
recommend to us a pension. 

«« Oh 1 yes; I know ze very one, what you want," 



198 FLOEENCE. 

was his prompt reply, and he gave us a card by which 
to find the house. 

On the way, we were overtaken by a middle-aged 
man, who bowed, smiled, and explained. 

*' I be ze man, ze consul send you his house. I go 
there." 

We supposed by this, that we were being addressed 
by the proprietor of the establishment of which we 
were in search, so we followed him, keeping, however, a 
sharp lookout to make sure that we were being led 
aright. He stopped at No. 11, Via Montebello, 
opened the door, and invited us upstairs to see his 
rooms. They were two bright cozy apartments, a 
bed-room and a parlor, and his terms were quite rea- 
sonable ; but we asked leave to think about it till to- 
morrow. We didn't quite like to trust ourselves with 
an Italian, if we could do as well elsewhere. 

At the next place at which we applied, the little girl 
who answered the door bell, shook her head in response 
to our queries, and saying: — 

*^ Parlo ItalianOi" ran off up stairs, leaving us 
waiting in the hall. 

In a few minutes, she returned, accompanied by a 
broad shouldered, muscular looking man, whose hair, 
eyes, and beard were even darker than those of the 
consul, or of our friend whom we had just left. But 
there was something frank and pleasing in the expres- 
sion of his face, so it was with less trepidation we 
followed him up the steps. At the landing, we paused 
while he turned the key, and flung open the ponderous, 



LETTER EIGHTEEN. ' 199 

gate-like door, which admitted us to the most pecu- 
liarly constructed house I ever saw. There were loug, 
narrow halls, covered by a single strip of bright rag 
carpet, and these halls communicated with each other 
by curtained doorways, which occurred at most unex- 
pected intervals. The corners" of many of the rooms 
were acute, instead of right angles; but they were 
clean, and rendered cheerful by the sun shining in upon 
the yellow chairs and sofa cushions. Through curios- 
ity, we asked if he were an Italian. 

''No, ladies," was his reply, " lam a Dane.'* 

This is the first native of Denmark with whom we 
have met. We left him in the same uncertainty as 
the Italian, and, crossing the bridge over into the south- 
west part of the city, we pulled the bell at Mrs. 
Lautier's. Nobody came in answer, so we ascended 
the stairs to the second story and pulled the bell there. 
The door was opened, and upon inquiry, found Mrs. 
L. was up another flight. This was getting rather 
near the clouds, but we climbed this flight also, and 
were met by a little German lady, who expressed her 
regret that she had not a single vacant room. 

" Now, let's go to Mrs. Jennings'," was my propo- 
sition ; and, a few minutes later, we were seated in 
the tasteful little parlor of this boarding-house. 

Mrs. Milward had told us of this place, and we had ex- 
pected we should finally settle upon it as our Florentine 
home. A little, bustling creature soon appeared, and 
so rapidly did her tongue move, that, in five minutes, 
we understood each other perfectly. We objected to 



200 ■ FLOEENCB. 

her six o'clock dinner; she agreed to give us tea in- 
stead ; we objected to her single beds ; she agreed tf 
substitute a double one ; we wanted sunshine ; she gavf 
us a southeast room which meets this want. All this, 
too, was to be ours, at less expense, than at any othei 
place we had been. Our cozy little room looks very 
homelike, and Mrs. J. is very kind to us. There arc 
quite a number of English ladies and gentlemen in the 
house, with whom we meet in the drawing-room of an 
evening. 

We have, as yet, seen few of the places of interest. 
We went Thursday afternoon, to the Pitti Palace 
where King Victor Emanuel used to live, and which 
is one of the finest picture galleries of Europe. On 
Friday afternoon, we went to the church of Santa 
Croce, where Michael Angelo is buried, and where 
many fine monuments are to be seen. On yesterday 
afternoon, we took a walk out beyond the Porta Rom- 
ana (gate towards Rome), beyond which extends a 
carriage road bordered by cypress, larch, and ever- 
green oak. This afternoon, we strolled throu2;h the 
Boboli Gardens back of the Pitti Palace ; but I haven't 
time, to-night, to describe any of these things. 

We went to church, this morning, in time for 
Sunday-school, where we formed the acquaintance of 
the preacher's mother, a nice, pious old lady, on whom 
we intend to call to-morrow evening. There is to be a 
meeting at the parsonage on Wednesday afternoon, 
for the purpose of devising some plan for missionary 
work among the poor of the city, and we are invited 



LETTER EIGHTEEN. 201 

to attend with the promise that some work shall be 
assigned us. I expect to be very busy, here in Flor- 
ence ; for, besides sight-seeing and church-going, I 
intend to employ a teacher of French and German. 
I shall go to the Consul to-morrow for advice as to a 
teacher. By the way, we know now that the man who 
first met us at the Consulate was only an Italian 
deputy. We hope, to-morrow, to meet Mr Graham 
himself. It is very difficult to decide upon a teacher, 
when one is so ignorant as I am of the French lan- 
guage ; but I must learn it before venturing into France, 
or going further south in Italy. I wonder if I shall 
love it as I do German. I do not like its nasal, com- 
plaining, sound ; it has not, to my ear, the force and 
dignity of the German. The first time I found myself 
able to comprehend a sermon in German, I think I 
was the happiest girl outside of America. It was the 
third time I had heard the Lutheran preacher in the 
Frauenkirche, in Dresden. The first time, I caught 
only enough to make out that the conversion of Cor- 
nelius was his theme ; the next Sunday, I shared in 
the benefit of the exhortation ; but the third time, the 
sentences I lost could be counted on my. fingers. His 
text was Acts 14:8-18, about Paul and Barnabas at 
Lystra. Of course, he uttered only familiar truths, 
out to hear them spoken in a foreign tongue gave new 
interest to each thought. Besidas, I was all the time 
thanking the Supreme Being for having granted my 
desire to learn the German tongue. It opens one's 



202 FLORENCE. 

heart to a nation when the language of the people is 
understood; to know that, with such strange sounds, 
they but express the same emotions we feel ; to know 
that their thoughts are much the same as our thoug-hts. 
Three months before, a German conversation had been 
as unintelligible to one as the quacking of so many 
geese ; and I looked upon the people with only curious 
eyes, not feeling that I had with them much in com- 
mon. I only hope I shall succeed as well with French. 
I am writing, now, to Prof. Eudolph a long letter in 
German, containing an account of our travels to this 
place. This is a very pleasant task, and I must close 
now this letter to you that I may resume it. I am 
going to inclose in this an application to Teacher's 
National Bureau, Harrisburgh, Pa., which I wish you 
to send them. You must put in fifty cents to pay 
for my membership, as I want them to help me in 
getting a situation for next year. Send it on as soon 
as possible. I can not send it myself, because I have 
not a cent of U. S. currency. Write very soon again. 

EUDOKA. 



LETTER NINETEEN. 203 



LETTER XIX. 



Florence, Italy, November 3, 1875. 

Dear Brother Graham: 

|orY last letter to you was written from Genoa, 
^^^J^ where we spent three days in visiting the hand- 
some palaces, and beautiful gardens. On the 22nd, we 
left that city for Florence, via Pisa. The road from 
to Genoa Pisa extends, for some distance, along the Med- 
iterranean ; but it affords only taunting glimpses of the 
blue expanse, because you are scarcely through one 
promontory when you are hurried into the darkness of 
the next. There was no danger of taking a super- 
ficial view of this part of the country. Of course, we 
stopped at Pisa, and tried the effect of our weight 
upon the leaning side of the old bell-tower ; but, 
luckily for future tourists, our three months in Ger- 
many has so reduced our avoirdupois, that we left it 
quite as erect as we found it. 

The ten days since our arrival in Florence are but a 
medley of searches for boarding-houses, inquiries for 
teachers, hurryings through galleries, and visits to 
churches. I can not give you my meditations at the 
tomb of Michel Angelo ; because, just as I was going 
to meditate, I caught sight of a beautiful monument to 
Dante near by. I can not describe the ' ' facial expres- 



204 FLORENCE. 

sions " in Giotto's old frescoes in the church of Santa 
Croce; because, while I ought to have been studying 
the dim remnants of the old master's work, I was 
watching the countenance of the priest at the high 
altar. 

When I become a little used to the novelty of being 
in Florence, perhaps I can concentrate my mind upon 
some one of its artistic wonders. But I remember 
clearly how I spent yesterday afternoon, and of that I 
will tell you. 

About three o'clock, the Rev. J. E. Kittredge, of 
Massachusetts, pastor of the American Union Church, 
called to take Kate and me we knew not whither. 
The engagement had been made the previous after- 
noon just as we were leaving his house after a half an 
hour's chat with himself, wife, and mother. 

" Would you like to go with me to visit the Walden- 
sian school to-morrow? " he asked. " Dr. Parker, of 
Washington, and one or two other gentlemen are 
going, and you might be interested." 

We gladly assented, for we wished to know what 
means are in operation for the improvement of this 
wretched people. By the way, we do not know 
whether Mr. K. is Methodist, Presbyterian, or what, 
nor has he asked us to what church we belong; but 
we do know he seems to be a zealous worker, and fully 
alive to the wants of benighted Italy. We were in his 
class at Sunday-school last Sunday, and the subject 
under discussion was the love of Christ to the world. 
Of this he seemed to have as warm an appreciation as 



LETTER NINETEEN. 205 

any one ; and that is all I know about his religious 
belief. This is his second year with the church here. 

Well, on our way he informed us that the building 
we were about to visit was formerly the palace of 
Cardinal Sulviati, who, three hundred years ago, was 
hanged for his opposition to the Medici. 

*' But here we are at the door," said he, as our car- 
riage stopped in front of the round-arched entrance. 
The others of the party had preceded us, and we now 
joined them as they stood in the first school-room to 
the left. 

" Here is one of your county-women," said Mr. K., 
presenting a rather delicate looking young lady of 
the company. " She is on her way to Smyrna, as a 
missionary." 

After an introduction to the gentlemen, we all turned 
our attention to the pupils, all of whom were girls, 
eno-ao-ed in sewing. 

"It is the hour for instruction in needle-wook," 
explained the teacher. 

"Are these dozen girls all you have? " asked Mr. K. 

" No; this is All-Soul's Day, and many of them are 
attending the festival," was the answer. 

"Here is the boys' room," said a genial-faced, 
middle-aged man, who now took the lead. As we 
entered, the little fellows — the oldest was not more 
than eleven — rose and placed their left hands to 
their foreheads. We thought at first this movement 
was intended to shade their eyes from the sun which 
was pouring in at the windows ; but when the hands 



206 WALDENSIAN SCHOOL. 

went down again in a minute, I supposed that was 
their way of saluting visitors. 

"Let's hear them sing a little," requested Mr. K. 

In compliance with this, the girls were brought in 
from the adjoining room, and all united with full, sweet 
voices in a Sunday-school hymn. During the song 
the teacher handed us a copy-book in which was page 
after page of even, neat, unblotted writing. I looked 
around to see if I could guess the owner. The smallest 
of the girls, whose golden hair seemed out of place in 
an Italian school, was trying to hide her face under her 
curls in such a self-conscious way as to identify her at 
once. 

" This little girl will make a speech for you," said 
the teacher, leading forward one of her charges. 

Her light brown calico dress; her long sleeveless 
white apron, and the comb holding her hair straight back 
from her forehead, reminded me of a little schoolmate 
who used to sit beside me in the old log school-house 
where my education was commenced. She bashfully 
cast her eyes to the floor, her left hand hung down at 
her side, the fingers nervously twitching at the corner 
of her apron, the right hand was busy with the ends of 
a comforter which was tied around her throat. Of 
course we couldn't understand a word, but so musical 
were the tones that we were sorry when the last ones 
were uttered. 

" Let's see if the babies are all gone home yet," 
suggested Mr. K., as we came out again to the hall. 

*' Here they are I" he exclaimed, passing out into a 



LETTER NINETEEN. 207 

porch which opens upon a lovely garden. I supposed 
we would find them at play, but there they sat plying 
their l^nitting needles as rapidly as we are wont to see 
our grandmothers. 

" How old are you? " asked Mr. K. of one who 
had spread out on her knees one well-shaped stocking, 
and the other was growing under her baby fingers. 

" Cinque " (five), she lisped in reply. 

* ' How many puplis have they in the whole school ? ' ' 
I inquired as we passed two or three other rooms simi- 
larly occupied. 

" About two hundred, of whom fourteen or fifteen 
are theological students. "We'll go now into the print- 
ing office ; you see, Mr. Will has opened the door." 

This Mr. W. was the leader to whom I have referred 
before; he is a Scotchman, and is in some way con- 
nected with the Waldensians in this enterprise. In 
the first department they were setting type for French 
and Italian papers and pamphlets ; in the second, one 
press was in operation. 

" This sounds rather aggressive," said Mr. E., as he 
read the following heading to a freshly printed sheet-: 
*' The Ten Commandments as found in the Word of 
God; the Nine Commandments as mutilated by the 
Koman Church." 

" Yes, we print many such articles in our tracts.*' 

One of the printers here distributed among the party 
some specimens of their Sunday-school papers. A very 
good wood-cut of the Emperor of Germany adorned 
the first page of one. 



208 THE PRINTING OFFICE. 

** Remarkable coincidence that Just as the Emperor 
was coming on a visit to Italy, the children's paper 
should be filled with accounts of him," observed some 
one. 

These papers are about the size of The Little 
/Soioer, Good Woi-'ds, etc., and contain similar 
stories and illustrations. The next door led into the 
bindery, and through this we passed into the apartment 
devoted to packing up and sending otF the books to 
different points. 

" Are these distributed free, or do you sell them? " 
inquired Kate. 

"We sell chiefly, but at as low rates as possible," 
answered Mr. W. " We issue about 350,000 pages 
annually. Here is a work we have just finished, an 
almanac of more than a hundred pages. Everybody 
must have an almanac, and thus we reach many who 
would not read our other publications." 

Turning over the leaves of the volume we found 
portraits of Victor Emanuel, Michael Angelo and 
Prince Bismarck. 

• '* We have to leave Bismarck out of the almanac we 
print for France," said Mr. W., " and all this about 
the saints, too. You see each month has a day conse- 
crated to some saint, and in these articles we attack the 
custom. The French consider them too hard on 
Eomanism, and prohibit them on that account. There 
is much more freedom for the press in Italy than in 
the new republic." 

We looked around the shelves and, in spite of their 



LETTER NINETEEN. 209 

foreign dress, recognized many of the friends of our 
childhood, and rejoiced to know that they can now 
speak to the young hearts of Italy. 

We were next shown into the neat chapel where ser- 
vice is held every Lord's day, and into the smaller 
room adjoining, where they have prayer-meetings on 
Thursday evenings. As we were going upstairs to see 
the theological department, Mr. W. called our atten- 
tion to a tablet on the wall, at the head of the first 
flight, on which is enrolled the names of the donors to 
the institution. It seems that one of our countrymen 
contributed one-sixth of the $30,000 which was paid 
for the palace in 1860. 

** Now, you have seen all," said Mr. Will, as he 
conducted us to the palace door. 

We thanked him for the hour's pleasure and instruc- 
tion, and turned our faces homeward. Mr. Benjamin, 
the only young gentleman of the party, here left us, 
and Miss Powers, the missionary to Smyrna, inquired 
of Mr. K. where he was from. 

*' He is just now from Lucerne, Switzerland, where 
he has preached for two summers ; but his home is in 
New Haven, Connecticut. He is unable to work at 
present on account of a throat affliction ; but is a man 
of some ability, and especially quick in devising ways 
to approach people who are determined not to hear the 
gospel. At one time he was protracting a meeting in 
his own State, and the audiences were not as large as 
he desired. He adopted the expedient of going around 
to their houses and insisting upon their attending. 
u 



210 FLOKENCE. 

One man heard of these visits, and as he saw Mr. B. 
approaching the house, he seized his saw and hur- 
ried to the wood-pile. Mr. B. followed ; and as 
the noise of the saw prevented conversation, he said : — 

'*Work away; I'll sing you a song." 

And while the man stubbornly continued, Mr. B. 
sang him " Sweet By-and-by." 

"I'll come to church to-night," said the man, throw- 
ing down his saw as the sweet strains touched his heart. 
But here is the house where Mrs. E. B. Browning 
used to live; " and in discussing the poetess the 
preacher was forgotten. Eudora. 



LETTER XX. 



Florence, Italy, November 7, 1875. 
Dear Brother South : 

'TFT HAVE just read over and revised for the last 
(^ time a letter of eight pages to my German pro- 
fessor; and, now, I will write my regular letter to 
you. Since mailing my last, I have had no news from 
you; but, doubtless, the ships, and not you, are to 
blame. In my last, I told you the sequel of my 
Chamounix experience, and of our safe arrival and 



LETTER TWENTY. 211 

satisfactory arrangements in Florence. What shall I 
tell you this time? Would you like a diary of the last 
thirteen days ? Wonder if I can recall chronologically 
the crowded events?- I'll try. I remember quite dis- 
tinctly, that we came to this pension on Tuesday night, 
October 26th, and it took till bed-time to get our 
things in order. Wednesday', I spent in writing, and, 
at noon, received the last of your always welcome 
messages. 

On Thursday morning, we went out to mail some 
letters, and on returning, met some of our fellow- 
boarders, who told us they were going to the Pitti 
Palace, because it was a free day. We concluded it 
might be well for us also to take advantage of free 
days, as we want to see everything in Florence for as 
little money as possible. It is quite a recent thing 
that admittance fees to the galleries have been 
charged. This palace has, since the sixteenth century, 
been the residence of the reigning sovereign; accord- 
ingly, Victor Emanuel, who is in the city on a ten 
days' visit, is at present making it his home. In a 
splendid suite of rooms is a collection of five hundred 
of the works of the old masters. Raphael, Titian, 
Michael Angelo, Sarto, Eosa, and others of like 
renown, are household words with those who frequent 
the Pitti Palace. Of course, one visit merely dazzles 
you, and fills you with a confused consciousness of 
numberless rare treasures perceived. We could stay 
only two hours before time for returning to lunch ; and 
from that time, till tea, we studied and wrote. 



212 FLOEENCE. 

After tea, we went into the drawing room to get 
acquainted with our fellow-boarders. Hitherto, we 
had met them only at table ; but we could easily see 
that none of them were Americans. We found them 
conversing in groups, and, so absorbed were they in 
each other, no one seemed aware that we had entered. 
One young lady, who sits near us at table, seemed dis- 
posed to be sociable ; but waited for us to make 
advances. But we didn't make them, so there we sat 
alone, and for some time silent. Opposite us was a 
couple tete-a-tete on a sofa. The lady was tall, past 
thirty, red faced, and, worst of all mustached. I didn't 
know anything about her then ; but I know now that she 
is an artist, very intelligent, and has traveled a good 
deal. Beside her was a delicate looking youth, with 
round, black, staring eyes, which instead of looking at 
you, look through you to something ideal beyond. 
He also is an artist, a German, who, later in the eve- 
ning, awakened the piano to the strains of Beethoven. 
As I was noting this pair, a frisky little woman sud- 
denly popped herself between me and them. I think 
she is a widow ; for yesterday morning, she declared 
to Signor M. that her heart is stone to all the world 
except her little girl. I supposed she kindly wished to 
put him on his guard. By the way, he is an Italian, 
and his English is very amusing. He adds an accented 
"e" at the end of every word. For instance this 
morning he said to me : — 

"I brought-e you-e a package of-e books-e last-e 
night-e. They was-e directed to-e Eudora Lindsay. 



LETTER TWENTY, 213 

That is-e a very good-e name. In-e Greek-e it means-e 
' good-e gifts.' " 

He is engaged in some kind of literary pursuits, gives 
evidence of culture, but he says the English pronoun- 
ciation is beyond his power. 

Well, when we grew tired of silent observation, 
Kate drew her chair up to the table near a lady who 
looked as lonely as ourselves. 

*' Do you speak German? " asked Kate. 

In reply, the woman smiled, shook her head nega- 
tively, bowed affirmatively, then pressed Kate's hand 
confidentially. Kate repeated the question ; she 
repeated the pantomime, but added in a whisper, " I'm 
a little " — pointing to her ear. 

Kate now saw that she was deaf, and, raising her 
voice, finally succeeded in getting from her the address 
of a German teacher. This done, we bade her good 
night, and retired to our room with rather a poor 
impression of English sociability. Since that, we 
have spent but one evening outside of our room, and 
with little better success ; for they played chess and 
dominoes without once inviting us to take part. They 
talk very little, though they seem to be very well edu- 
cated. I believe it is true that English women do not 
understand the art of conversation. We propose going 
in again to-morrow night, and I shall inform you with 
what success. A Scotch family, however, whom we 
met in Geneva, have come in this last week, so I think 
we shall find more life in the party. 

On Friday afternoon, in accordance with our deter- 



214 SANTA CROCE. 

mination to see something every day, we went to the 
church of Santa Croce (pronounced Santa Crochy). 
The foundation of this building was laid in the 
thirteenth century, and all except the front was 
finished in 1442. In 1863, a new marble fagade was 
put to it, and its gleaming whiteness is little in keep- 
ing with its time-browned sides. We spent an hour 
and a half in making the circuit of the inner walls of 
the church, pausing at every altar and tomb ; but I 
must go back again in order to fully appreciate its 
architecture and its many monuments. In the front 
of the church is a statue of Dante, of whom there are 
innumerable pictures and busts scattered over the city. 
He is a strange looking personage ; I think he must 
have been subject to melancholy. The corners of his 
mouth are drawn down; his eyes are cast upon the 
ground; one might imagine him to have before his 
face the awful visions of the lower world of which he 
writes so vividly. On the outside of the Uffizi, another 
of the picture galleries is a succession of niches, in 
which are statutes of the distinguished men of Italy. 
Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio are side by side, and 
are in striking contrast. Petrarch is next to the sor- 
rowing Dante, and with his eyes raised to heaven, he 
seems truly inspired. He seems not of the earth, but 
far above it; seems longing for a sphere where his 
ideal of purity and love may be realized. Boccaccio 
meets your glance with an expression of pleasure at 
recognizing another of his fellow mortals. I have not 
read extensively the works of these poets ; but I think 



LETTER TWENTY. . 215 

Boccaccio must have been well satisfied with the earth 
on which the Creator placed him, and that he had most 
of sympathy with his fellow- creatures. 

On Saturday, I was busy with my German letter 
until lunch, after which we took a walk out beyond the 
Porta Eomana. Florence was, until recently, sur- 
rounded by great stone walls, which are now torn 
away, and the space turned into handsome drives. 
-The ancient gates, however, have been left standing, 
and towards one of them we directed our steps. The 
street leading to it is tolerably wide ; but the sidewalk 
is intended for walking single file. Kate and I like to 
walk together, so we took the street itself. It is paved 
with flagstones, hence is quite as good walking as the 
footpath. Carriages were whirling past us every mo- 
ment ; but the street was wide enough for both them 
and us, so we talked along quite at our ease. Sud- 
denly a great shouting arose behind us ; but as it is 
nothing new for these Italians to yell hideously on the 
streets, we didn't even turn to look behind us. It 
came closer and closer, and with it the sound of wheels, 
and the clattering of horses' feet. Another minute 
and I should have been trampled under those same 
hoofs, had not a single backward glance revealed to 
me the impending danger. The dark-browed driver 
scowled upon me, and I saw that he was furious, be- 
cause we had not understood him when he shouted for 
us to get out of his way. A heavy hack came lumber- 
ing behind the two fiery black horses, and as the wheels 
drew from the hard paving stones a continual moan, I 



216 BOBOLI GARDENS. 

shuddered to think of their passing over my body. 
This is the worst feature of European cities. Instead 
of fining the driver for carelessness, the person injured 
is fined for being in the way of the vehicle. The only 
way to be safe, is to feel that every carriage has ex- 
press determination to run over you, and then you may 
keep yourself sufficiently on the alert. We stick to 
the sidewalk now, and will not cross a street, if there 
is a carriage anywhere in the vicinity. In fact, I am 
almost afraid of a wheel-barrow. I do not desire such 
an ignoble end, as I used to say to a young friend 
about getting drowned in his mill-pond. 

Our fright, however, did not prevent our enjoying 
the walk ; for we were soon beyond the gate, and along 
the broad highway where there was no danger. The 
road on either side is bordered by tall, straight cypress, 
bushy evergreen oak, and graceful larch. I don't 
know how long we walked; but we finally came to 
where the road terminated, at a large two-story build- 
ing-, once the villa of a green, now an educational in- 
stitution. Here, a beggar, in rags and dirt, stuck out 
his hand for alms; but we are hard-hearted, as every 
one should learn to be before coming to Italy. This 
vagrancy is now strongly opposed by the city govern- 
ment, and foreigners are requested to aid in its sup- 
pression. There are various institutions for taking 
care of the truly needy, and by contributing to these 
one may be judiciously charitable. 

On Sunday afternoon, the Boboli Gardens afforded 
a suitable place for quiet meditation, so we entered the 



LETTER TWENTY. 217 

gate and followed its winding roads. Ever and anon, 
we came upon some nymph or faun of white marble 
half hidden amid the close-cut hedge, or upon some 
colossal Neptune forming the central figure of a foun- 
tain's pool. In one tiny lakelet, myriads of little fish 
were contending for the possession of a crumb thrown 
by a boy upon the water; and, just as the strife grew 
hottest, a duck swam to the spot and gobbled it up. 
Even so result the struggles of us larger folks. 

Monday came, and, as soon as breakfast was over, 
we inquired at the Pension Suisse to see if Mrs Bradt 
had yet arrived. Mrs. B. is a Massachusetts lady 
whom we met at Genoa; who came to Pisa with us; 
visited with us the sights of that place ; came on with 
us to Florence where we have remained while she went 
on a flying visit to Eome. She commissioned us to 
prepare for her a plan by which she could see Florence 
in three days. We didn't find her at the Swiss, so we 
eame back home to revise our programme for the day. 
The only item worthy of mention is our call upon our 
preacher in the afternoon. He and wife are very 
agreeable, and his white-haired mother is as sweet as the 
sanctifying influence of an old lady's cup can make any 
one. Mrs. Bradt came at night, and the next three days 
were a specimen of flying around Europe on Cook's plan. 
As we saw Mrs. B. leave for Venice, at the expiration 
of the three days, we couldn't help pitying her for the 
necessity of seeing hundreds of new sights on the mor- 
row. Next morning I went out with the determina- 
tion to secure, before my return, teachers of German 



218 FLORENCE. 

and French ; and happily in less than an hour, I had 
found the very thing I wanted. But here I must stop, 
for this letter must be mailed. I had quite a treat, the 
other day, in the shape of a package of late magazines ; 
Harper^s, Scribner^s, Atlantic and Popular Science. 
Hope the next will be a letter from you. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER XXI. 



Florence, Italy, November 16, 1875, 

"X^^T'ELL, Brother Graham, I'm going to do this 
^V^v time what folks often do when no other topic 
readily suggests itself — gossip a little about my 
neighbors. Th.\& pension life affords rare opportun- 
ities for meeting and discussing a variety of char- 
acters. There are twenty-five of us here under the 
care of Mrs. Jennings, a brisk little English woman, 
who, ever and anon, darts into pur rooms to ascertain 
our wants, and out again in an instant to see that they 
are gratified. She hasn't time to tell us what kind of 
people are in the bright, south rooms adjoining our 
own, nor who occupy the colder, but more airy apart- 
ments overhead ; so we have to satisfy our curiosity by 
taking notes when we meet them at the table or in the 
drawing-room. At breakfast, the very first morning 



LETTER TWENTY- ONE. 219 

after our arrival, there sat next us a gentleman and 
lady who were evidently related in some way; but 
how, we could not tell. 

"Do you take Italian lessons?" asked some one, 
addressing her from the opposite side of the table. 

" Yes; my brother and I recite every day," was the 
answer. 

"Your brother I " responded her interlocutor, in a 
tone of surprise. 

"Yes, my brother," she laughingly responded; " I 
wonder if you had fallen into the common error of sup- 
posing him my husband. I think it so stupid for 
English people to make such a mistake I " she exclaimed 
pettishly; " it is natural that the Italians should ; for 
their young ladies are not allowed to go on the streets 
with their brothers." 

Now our curiosity was gratified, and an item in re- 
gard to Italian customs also gained. A young lady 
never goes on the streets alone either; but must be 
accompanied by her mother, married sister, or maid. 
The English and American travelers, however, do just 
as they are wont to do at home, and the natives do not 
question its propriety. 

" Good mawning !" broke in a very big voice upon 
our discussion of Italian manners. We looked up, 
prepared to see a big man as the origin of the big voice ; 
but not so. A tiny specimen of the gentler sex was 
just settling herself at one corner of the breakfast- 
table. Her face was much flushed; and I supposed it 



220 FLOEENCE. 

had only been by great effort that she had succeeded in 
uttering the masculine tones. But presently she burst 
forth into a tirade against Mrs. Jennings, and the voice 
was still the same. 

" Do you know Mrs. Jennings has but one coffee- 
pot? I never was in a pension before but each person 
had her coffee-pot. It's ridiculous to have only one 
coffee-pot. I must speak to Mrs. Jennings about the 
coffee-pot." 

She emphasized every word, and for a week in 
succession repeated the speech every morning, till 
finally she announced : — 

" I have spoken to Mrs. Jennings about the coffee- 
pot, and we are to have another coffee-pot." 

I never ceased to wonder how such a little woman 
could manufacture such a coarse voice, and I tried in 
vain to imitate her, till I hit upon the expedient of 
holding my whole body, neck and all, perfectly stiff 
and upright, just as she uniformly carries herself. 
Assume this attitude yourself, and recite from the very 
depths of your chest this coffee-pot declamation, and 
you will have an idea of the sound I am trying to 
describe ; and this peculiarity of tone or voice is, to a 
greater or less extent, characteristic of the English 
people whom we have thus far met. 

But Mr. M., our only Italian fellow-boarder, who is 
a man of considerable research, says the pronunciation 
of the English language is to him an impenetrable 
mystery. Of the truth of this declaration he is con- 



LETTER TWENTY-ONE. 221 

stantly giving unmistakable proof. For instance, the 
other morning some one asked where he had spent the 
preceding evening. 

"I was to 'eare de American singere. You knowe 
she-ise-de-beste-in Florence nowe. Se ise-pretty in de 
face, but se 'as too many bonese — so ise-too tin. Se 
singse very goode, bute-wen se oughte-feele in 'er 
'earte, se don'te; it alle-comese-from 'er 'eade." 

You see he adds an " e " to almost every word, and 
he has as little respect for" h's " as if he had been 
born in England. But I have quoted this not simply to 
exhibit Signor M.'s imperfections of speech; I would 
call your attention to another point. The criticism 
which he makes upon the young American who has had 
the courage to try the Italian stage, is what most of our 
public speakers would meet from an Italian audience. 
They judge a speaker by the iinpression he makes on 
their hearts, and he can make none unless what he says 
is an outpouring of his own emotions. I went a few 
evenings since to hear Gavazzi in his own church, 
among his own people, and in his own language. You 
have heard him in English, and were doubtless charmed 
with his reasoning powers, but you ought to see him at 
home in his own pulpit. His theme was the false pre- 
tensions of the papacy, the assumed purity of the 
priesthood, and the ignorance of the populace who are 
duped and tyrannized over by both. The sarcasm with 
which he treated the first ; the ridicule to which he ex- 
posed the second; the commiseration which he 
expressed for the third — all were reflected from the 



222 GAVAZZI. 

upturned face of every hearer. Their lips curled with 
scorn as the Pope's power of excommunication was 
commented upon ; they burst into laughter as the 
absurdity of certain Catholic myths was presented ; 
they could not refrain from applause as he urged them 
to ' ' stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ had made 
them free." SignorM. grew quite excited. 

"Ah !" said he afterwards, "e speakse-from 'is 
'earte. If'e wase-allowede-to speake-on de streetse- 
like'e dide-ine de paste, 'e woulde- wake de people, 
bute streete-preachinge-is prohibited now." 

Signor M. is by no means a Catholic, but it would be 
better for his future domestic happiness if he were. 
He is engaged to an English lady, who is so strong a 
believer in the Romish faith that she thinks it her duty 
to persecute the heretical Signor M. by refusing to 
release him from the now irksome bond. I don't know 
why the lady should be so anxious to hold him to his. 
contract, for the Italians are famous for whipping their 
wives. Miss L. says the same outrage was once com- 
mon among the peasantry of England, but it is now 
punished by giving the man in return a severe public 
flagellation, which never fails to cure him. She sug- 
gests that the same law be introduced into Italy, but 
Signor M. thinks a brief term in prison would be better. 
I do not know whether he expects to have a personal 
interest in the matter or not. 

But I am about to forget our gray-haired old bach- 
elor. How could I forget him, after so often watch- 
ing for his appearance at the dining-room door ! One 



LETTEE TWENTY-ONE. 223 

can see that the poor man has been used to waiting on 
himself, for he seizes the " coffee pote," and with his 
own hands pours out the beverage and puts in the 
sugar and milk. He says Loch Lomond is a nice sheet 
of water, and that the philanthropy of England far 
surpasses the art of Italy. He has equally matter-of 
fact-views on the subject of matrimony. 

" Well," he says, " a man might as well be tyran- 
nized over by a wife as by a housekeeper." 

" Yes," answered a sharp-nosed maiden lady, look- 
ing timidly up into his face from the other side of the 
table, " you ought to try it." 

*' Oh ! I'll never marry," was his crusty rejoinder, 
and the lady fell to contemplating her dish of chestnuts. 

The libel suit of the American artist, Connelly, 
against his accuser, has furnished a fruitful theme for 
the last week. Some of the ladies went to hear the 
pleadings, and from their report I infer that Italian 
lawyers are no less skillful than our own in the art of 
splitting hairs. 

"Do you think Connelly is guilty?" I asked of 
Miss L. 

" I do not know that he or any other American 
artist claims work that is not his own, but I do know 
that one Polish sculptor here in Florence has his studio 
filled with statuary to which his name is attached, but 
for not one piece of which he deserves credit. Every 
design is procured for a mere trifle from poverty- 
stricken Italian genius." 

" Is the trial by jury the same here that it is in En- 
gland?" inquired Kate. 



224 FLOEENCE. 

**No, unanimity is not required; a mere majority 
decides the case." 

"Yese," added Signor M., "and de twelve mens 
are not bounde to keepe dere mouthse shute. Ine de 
eveningse dey go ine de cafe, and dey talk aboute wat 
dis witnesse saide, and everybody knowse wat de sen- 
tence ise to be." 

I'll not puzzle you with any more of Signor M.'s 
English, but he continued to say that the decision in a 
criminal case was often dangerous to juryraen ; that 
not unfrequently does one pay the forfeit of his life 
for voting the death of the accused. Of course, the 
Connelly case could not result in capital punishment of 
any one, but it was of great imterest to every lover of 
art and justice, so we were glad when the close of the 
week brought an end to our suspense in regard to the 
decision. 

" Healey is sentenced to pay one thousand francs 
and suffer an imprisonment of fifteen days," read Mr. 
L. from Friday morning's paper. 

It seems, however, that this fine is imposed on 
account of abusive epithets applied by Healey to Con- 
nelly, and not because his accusation, as a whole, was 
false. It is generally believed that C. is of the num- 
ber who are growing rich at the expense of artists too 
poor to execute their own designs, Healey has taken 
an appeal, so that he has not yet begun his half month 
of prison life. 

Now, I have introduced you to a few of our present 
associates, but every few days new ones come in and 
old ones depart. Most of us intend to go on to Rome 



LETTER TWENTY-ONE. 225 

after some weeks. When we reach that city and make 
a personal call on His Holiness we'll let you know. 
By the way, we have been told that we must use a 
little policy if we wish an interview with him. A lady, 
in applying for this privilege, happened to remark that 
she had just been to see Garibaldi. 

' ' What I ' ' exclaimed the priest from whom she 
must get the permission, " would you insult the Pope 
by shaking hands with Garibaldi one day and receiving 
his blessing the next? You deserve to be tied to a 
cart and led about town till you beg forgiveness." 

My informant said she was wise enough to call on 
the Pope first. 

But speaking of Garibaldi reminds me that we have 
in the house a namesake of this distinguished man. 
As yet he occupies no higher office than that of errand 
boy to Mrs. Jennings; but if he were in the United 
States he might become a Senator. He'll soon speak 
English as well as Signor M., though he only catches it 
by ear, and doesn't always know what it means. Kate 
said to him one day as he brought her a letter : — 

'* Thank you, sir, very much." 

That evening he brought in our tea, and setting the 
waiter on the table, said, with a perfect accent: — 

" Thank you, sir, very much." 

And I heard him afterwards boasting to Nina that 
he could speake ^^Inglese.'^ But, as Signor M. says, 
" I musse bide yoiie goode nighte." 

EUDOEA. 
15 



226 FLOBENCE. 



LETTER XXn. 



rLORENCE, Italy, November 21, 1875. 
Dear Brother South : 

tWENT this morning, at nine o'clock, to hear the 
German minister, and afterwards attended the 
American Union Church. This is the second time 
I have heard the German and I like much his 
clear expositions of Scripture. His congregation is 
small, so I always find room on a front seat, where I 
can watch every motion of his lips. It requires little 
more effort now to understand a discourse in German 
than in English. I love the language, and feel attached 
to the people who speak it ; but I am not sure, that as 
a missionary field, Germany is the best that could now 
be chosen. You say, if you could only speak the lan- 
guage, you might with the simple Gospel, shake that 
nation to its center. German is the most difficult of 
European tongues, except, perhaps, Kussian; it takes 
long to acquire fluency in its use, and the warmth of 
your appeals might be lost by the choice of the wrong 
word. By patient study, liowever; by mingling with 
the people, one could finally overcome difficulties, and 
be able to plead effectively the story of the Cross ; 
but I can tell you of an easier language, and a more 



LETTEB TWENTY-TWO. 227 

ready harvest. Italy is Just awaking from the long 
stupor in which Eomanism has buried her; she is 
utterly disgusted with the long reign of tyrannical 
superstition ; her faith in the old myths is shaken, and 
now is the time for something new and good to be pre- 
sented. Waldensians and the Free Church are working 
in this cause ; but I think there is need of more labor- 
ers. I may be mistaken, but I think there is no better 
prospect for successful missionary labor than is offered 
by this interesting land. I have not sufficiently invest- 
igated the matter to know what plan of operations 
would be best ; but I will learn all I can of Italy's pre- 
sent condition, and then can better judge. If a school 
could be instituted where the young could be taught 
the Word in its purity, it seems to me much good 
might thus be accomplished. 

Kate has written her sister to send you a little book 
called the '* Awakening of Italy," and many of the 
prophecies in regard to the improvement of her con- 
dition have since been fulfilled through the instrumen- 
tality of Garibaldi and Victor Emanuel. But these 
military heroes can only gain for them freedom from 
the temporal power of the Pope ; it is only the true 
principles of Christianity which can make them free 
indeed. The Italian is the most musical, and the least 
difficult of all modern tongues; especially, is it easy 
to one who has studied Latin thoroughly.- I think, 
then, in view of all these facts, that our church would 
do well to make this a missionary field. Of course, a 
man without support from home could do nothing here.* 



228 FINE ARTS. 

The people among whom he must labor are very poor, 
many of them not able to get work by which to sup- 
port themselves; so, by coming here without means, 
he would only add himself to the number of beggars 
which are already the country's pest. But, for the 
present, we will let the subject rest, trusting the Good 
Father to indicate to us the proper field for our united 
labor. We are both unusually blessed with health and 
powers of endurance; God must intend us to use these 
gifts for his glory. 

You say I must not neglect my painting and music 
while in this land] where the fine arts reign supreme. 
In this I must leave your admonition unheeded; there 
is lack of both time and money. My German I must 
not neglect ; for I expect to make use of that here- 
after; I must learn French enough to at least meet the 
demands of travel. In order to appreciate Florence we 
must read up the historical associations of its many 
places of interest. I must write with care my letters to 
President. Just here, let me say, I do not agree with 
you in thinking I would do better to write sermons 
for the Times. Each copy of the paper contains 
articles of this kind; my letters induce some persons 
to take the paper, who would not otherwise do so, and 
thus better sermons than I can write are circulated 
through my influence. By telling a simple story of 
what we see and hear we awaken interest in these lands, 
and this interest may develop itself into a missionary 
spirit. 



LETTER TWENTY-TWO. 229 

But I am digressing from my recital of my daily or 
weekly duties. Even visiting the picture galleries 
affords constant occupation. You must learn the 
biography of every artist" before you can appreciate 
his work ; for one of Ciraabue's masterpieces would be 
a caricature for Raphael, or any other later artist. I'll 
tell you something of the little I know about Italian art. 
Before coming to Florence, I had heard of Raphael, 
of Michael Angelo, of Titian, and a few others of like 
note; but of art, as a whole, I knew nothing; hence, 
if I tell you things you already know, it will be because 
I estimate your ignorance by my own. 

Well, Florence is the center and source of Italian 
art, and Cimabue is called its founder. He was born 
at the beginning of the thirteenth century, and 
acquired a widespread reputation. Of course, to a 
modern eye, when considered without reference to the 
age in which he lived, his pictures are supremely ridic- 
ulous; but when we remember that Cimabue repre- 
sents the infancy of art, we are disposed to look with 
pleasure upon even a faint approach to a true portrayal 
of nature. He often has an enormous head appended 
to a long, thin body; his representations of the infant 
Savior are as stiff as puppets ; the eyes are little more 
than two slightly curved lines meeting at each extrem- 
ity, in the form of a very elongated ellipse; but his 
flesh tints are not bad, and his drapery hangs some- 
what gracefullly. 

Cimabue was of the nobility, and, one day he was 



230 GIOTTO. 

out riding in the country, when he came upon a youth 
tending a flock of sheep. The gentle animals were 
nipping the grass around him, and he was whiling 
away his time by drawing their portraits on a large 
stone. Cimabue saw, in the rude sketch, the marks 
of genius, so he took the boy to his house, where he 
taught him to paint. 

Giotto (that was his name) did not adhere to the 
instructions of his master, but took nature for his 
model, and thus introduced a new era in art. His 
pictures are mostly frescoes, that is, paintings on the 
plastered walls of churches or bell-towers ; many of 
them have grown too dim to be discerned ; some have 
lately been discovered under the whitewash in the old 
church of Santa Croce. His subjects, like those of 
most artists of his century are of a religious nature ; 
such as scenes in the life of Christ, miracles and 
martyrdoms of some saint. He is specially noted for 
his crucifix. Previous to his time Christ was repre- 
sented either erect on the cross, with his hands and 
feet nailed fast, or he was made simply the embodi- 
ment of physical agony. Giotto modified this last by 
giving to the face a look of sweet resignation, an 
expression of heavenly joy triumphing over bodily 
anguish. It is said of him that he induced a man to 
suffer himself tied to a cross, and then stabbed him in 
order to catch his expression as the death-pang passed 
over his frame. The crucifix painted from this model 
he presented to the Pope, and while " His Holiness " 
gazed with rapture upon the great work, Giotto con- 



LETTER TWENTY-TWO. 231 

fessed to him the deed by which this perfection had 
been attained. The Pope was shocked, and pro- 
nounced upon him the sentence of death ; whereupon 
he seized a brush and seemingly obliterated the whole 
picture. The Pope was so grieved that he promised 
pardon at the price of restoring the wonderful cruci- 
fix; whereupon Giotto, after exacting this promise in 
writing, easily removed the coating of black he had 
smeared over the canvas. 

Giotto was followed by Taddeo Gaddi, Orcagna, 
Aretino, and others, who copied their manner of exe- 
cution mainly from their master. They invented new 
designs, however, in fact, Aretino, in painting the 
" Fall of the Rebel Angels," made Lucifer such a 
horrid creature that the picture haunted him day and 
night, till it finally hastened on his death. 

Orcagna has, in one of the churches here, a repre- 
sentation of the Lower World, and opposite this' 
"Paradise." The lost are undero-oinsr all kinds of 
tortures ; being dipped in boiling water, roasting on 
huge gridirons, swimming in lakes of glowing flame, 
contending with huge serpents, etc. The blessed are 
marching around the throne, dressed in gay colors, 
and chanting everlasting strains from ever open books. 
One feels almost as sorry for the poor creatures con- 
demned to such monotony as for the tortured wretches 
on the opposite wall. Orcagna' s most noted works are 
his " Last Judgment," and the " Triumph of Death," 
both of which are in the old Campo Santo, at Pisa. 
The latter represents three kings, just returning from 



232 DA VINCI. 

a lively chase, with their thoughts full of the day's 
sports, when they find their progress suddenly impeded 
by three coffins, in which are three corpses, the exact 
images of themselves. Painters, nowadays, try to 
make their scenes probable; but Giotto's school 
thought only of portraying vividly the lesson intended. 
In the beginning of the fifteenth century, Lippi and 
Massaccio introduced a better imitation of nature. 
Their figures are more graceful and better propor- 
tioned ; their colors blend more harmoniously ; and 
they begin to give a little depth to their scenes. Of 
the pious and gifted Fra Augelico, I shall probably 
speak in my next letter to President. In this same 
century, were born Leonardo da Vinci, Michael An- 
gelo, Fra Bartollommeo, and Andrea del Sarto. Da 
Vinci was a man of varied and brilliant talents, being 
at the time, painter, mathematician, poet, and archi- 
tect. Painting, however, was his favorite pursuit, and 
his father placed him in care of a master to receive in- 
struction in this art. His master was painting a bap- 
tism of Christ, and he put his pupil to work on the 
same ; but the pupil so far surpassed the master, that 
the latter threw down his brush never again to resume 
it. Leonardo went into society, lived sumptuously, 
wrote and studied various topics; but yet his reputa- 
tion as an artist became widespread. One day, a 
peasant brought him a broad slab from a large fig tree, 
with the request that he should paint something on it. 
The artist collected together a number of serpents, 
lizards, and other frightful denizens of the forest, and 



LETTER TWENTY-TWO. 233 

from these made something so horrible, that, when his 
father was called to look at the completed picture, he 
fled from it in affright. This was sold for one hun- 
dred dollars to a merchant, who, shortly afterwards, 
received for it three times that sum from the Duke of 
Milan. 

To this same duke Leonardo applied for employment, 
and, about 1487, became attached to his court at Milan. 
He greatly enjoyed the gayety of his life here, but his 
time was so divided that he accomplished no celebrated 
Avork till he was ordered to execute the " Last Supper." 
This is his masterpiece, but is now in gtich a mutilated 
condition as to justify all that Mark Twain says of it. 

But reverses came to the once wealthy duke, and Da 
Vinci was reduced to poverty. He came to Florence, 
and learned to live on a moderate pension ; but, later 
in life, he went to Rome, where Leo X. at first treated 
him with favor ; but afterwards criticised some of his 
productions so as to offend the sensitive artist. He 
then left Rome, and went to Paris, where he is said to 
have died in the arms of Francis I. During his stay 
in Florence, there arose a rivalry between himself and 
Michael Angelo, who was twenty years his junior. 
They were jointly employed to decorate the walls of 
the Palazzo Yecchio, and the great emulation between 
them resulted in something near akin to hatred. 
Neither, however, went further than to prepare the 
cartoons of his proposed work, so no one can tell to 
which the palm would have been allotted. 

Of Michael Angelo's genius, you, of course, do not 



234 MICHAEL ANGELO. 

need to be told. At the age of thirteen he began to 
take lessons from Ghirlandajo, and, like Da Yinci, soon 
aroused the Jealousy of his master. He, one day, took 
the liberty to correct one of Ghirlandajo's models, and 
was ever after debarred from the privilege of copying 
them. About this time he attracted the attention of 
the noted Lorenzo de Medici, Duke of Florence, who 
allowed him to study the treasures of his own art col- 
lection. He now made friends of some stone masons, 
and, with marble and tools furnished by them, he made 
his first attempt at sculpture. His success was such as 
to induce the Duke to take him into his own palace, 
and there foster his youthful genius. The assent of 
his father to this arrangement was reluctantly given ; 
for he wished Michael to be a scholar, and not an 
artist. 

After the death of Lorenzo came a season of politi- 
cal troubles to the refined Florence, during which 
Angelo fled to Venice. There he met the head of the 
house of Bologna, who invited him to this city, and 
gave him a year's work. 

His first work, after returning to Florence, was a 
sleeping Cupid, which he was advised to palm off 
as an antique unearthed somewhere. He sold it, 
it, thus, for thirty dollars; but afterwards, the pur- 
chaser, a Roman cardinal, detected the fraud, and it 
also came out that Angelo had been cheated. His 
"Cupid" had been sold by an agent, who sent the 
artist only thirty dollars out of the two hundred given 
him by the cardinal. 



LETTER TWENTY-TWO. 235 

At the age of twenty-four, he was pronounced the 
first master of the world, and the " Dead Savior,*' by 
which he then acquired this distinction is in St. Peter's 
at Rome. His celebrated " David," a statue weighing 
eighteen thousand pounds, was finished in 1504, when 
he was only twenty-nine. 

It was shortly after this his rivalry with Da Vinci 
began ; for, as he was already leading sculptor, he 
wished also to measure his powers as painter. As I 
said before, neither went farther than to prepare car- 
toons ; but Angelo continued longer at this work and 
thus got the best of it. 

Pope Julius n. sent for him in 1505 to make for 
him a tomb, which was begun with favorable auspices. 
The Pope visited his studio daily, and everything prom- 
ised well, when some envious artist persuaded " His 
Holiness," that to build his tomb in his lifetime was 
a bad omen. This led him to regret his contract, so 
one day he refused to see the artist whom he had 
hitherto received at any time; whereupon the latter 
mounted his horse and at once left Rome. The Pope 
tried to induce him to return ; but he stoutly refused , 
and the former had no right to compel a Florentine to 
do anything. 

But Kate says it is ten o'clock, and I must finish the 
subject some other time. 

EUDORA. 



236 FLORENCE. 



LETTER XXni. 



Florence, Italy, November 29, 1875. 
Dear Little Sister: 

fHIS is Monday morning again, and this fact re- 
minds me of the way in which I spent last Monday. 
That was St. Cecelia's day, a fest in the Catholic 
church, and, as St. Cecelia was a noted musician, they 
always have, on her day, fine music in the churches. 
I had already been to several of the fine churches, to 
see the tombs, or the frescoes; but the St. Annunzi- 
ata we had never visited, though it was said to be the 
most highly ornamented in the city. Every church I 
have seen in Florence is built in the form of a Eoman 
cross. The long part of the arm is called the nave, 
which generally has a row of pillars on each side, cut- 
ting off aisles to the right and left. The projecting 
parts of the short arm of the cross are called the 
transepts ; and, in the remaining end of the long arm 
is placed the choir, that is, the largest, handsomest 
altar, before which high mass is celebrated, also the 
grand organ around which the players on other instru- 
ments sit. Over this choir is biiilt the dome. On both 
sides of the nave, and also along the transepts and 
behind the choir, are smaller altars, on which are long 



LETTEE TWENTY-THREE. 237 

candles, alternating with bunches of gay paper flowers. 
Over each altar is some picture or image of the Virgin 
Mary with the Infant Savior in her lap ; or of Christ 
crucified, with the crown of thorns on his head, and 
the blood flowing from brow, hands, feet and side. 
Between these altars are usually tombs of distinguished 
Florentines. In Santa Croce is buried the great art- 
ist, Michael Angelo; the distinguished poet, Alfieri ; 
and the wonderful astronomer, Gallileo. Some of 
these tombs are marked only by a plain slab of mar- 
ble set in the wall, and engraved with the name and 
date ; others have busts of those whose ashes lie be- 
neath ; still others, large handsome sarcophagi with typ- 
ical gi'oups of statutary. For instance, over Michael 
Angelo are figures representing Poetry, Painting, 
and Architecture. Poetry holds a pen, but her deep 
dejection has crushed out each inspiring thought ; 
Painting is about to throw aside her brushes in despair ; 
Architecture, or Sculpture, looks listlessly upon the 
compass and chisel in her hand, as if their work were 
ended. 

But I was going to tell you about St. Annunziata. 
As we first entered, the dazzling effect of highly col- 
ored pictures and gilded altars, together with the sub- 
limity of the music, absorbed the whole attention ; 
but soon I became interested in the worshipers kneel- 
ino; at the different shrines. One old man took his 
place directly in front of me. He was stoop-shoul- 
dered, fat, and had an immense nose deeply pitted with 



238 THE CHURCHES. 

small-pox. He was dressed in a long, rusty-brown, 
cloak-like coat, with a cape to match, a pair of shuffling 
slippers, and a skull cap, that is, a rimless cap fitting 
as tight as the skin. He had a hat in his hand, which 
he carefully placed on the floor, then, with trembling 
hand, made the sisjn of the cross, and bent his stiff knees 
in devotion before a crucifix. He took out his string of 
beads, and then, moving his lips as rapidly as possi- 
ble, began to repeat his prayers. When some half 
dozen of his beads were counted off, he grew too tired 
to endure it longer. He rose and climbed up on the 
bench, and still on his knees, continued to move his 
palsied lips. Two or three more beads passed through 
his fingers and he w^as again wearied. He tried stand- 
ing awhile, then kneeling again, and thus shifting his 
position every few minutes, he managed to get around 
the whole string of beads, when, with one last bow to 
the crucifix, he took his departure. 

The other afternoon we were in Santa Spirito when 
three children, the oldest about thirteen, came in. 
The oldest crossed herself, and her little five year old 
sister, with mock solemnity, imitated her example, 
when they all three knelt down before the high altar. 
In two seconds their prayers were ended, when they 
arose, started towards the door, then turned and knelt 
once more flat upon the marble floor. The little one, 
watching the others out of the corners of her eyes, 
did just as they did. They finally stopped at the font 
of holy water, which was too high for the little one to 



LETTER TWENTY-THREE. 239 

reach. The largest one dipped her hand into the bowl, 
the little one rubbed her fingers on the wet hand, and 
she too was purified. These Catholics seem to me 
very strange creatures. I saw one at St. Annunziata 
kiss devoutly the altar cloth on the spots where the priest 
had spread his hands during mass. You know what 
mass is, do you not? It is the ceremony by which the 
priests claim that the bread and wine are changed into 
the real hody and blood of Christ. You know we take 
the bread and wine in memory of our Savior; but 
they think by their Latin prayer they change the 
nature of the substance. This is called transuhstan- 
tiation — a big word, but you can probably remember 
it now. 

You say you are uneasy about me and Kate, and 
that you are lonely without me. You think it is a long 
time till next June. Time always seems long when 
looking forward to something we want very much. 
Maybe, one of these days I can have you with me. 
You must not feel that I have done wrong in leaving 
you ; for I felt it was my duty to make use of my 
opportunities. Write to me again very soon. 

" Sis." 



240 FLORENCE. 



LETTER XXrV. 



Florence, November 29, 1875. 
Dear Brother Rick: 

S[^\0 you think I have failed to appreciate your 
(^^ long-expected letter, and that I am altogether 
ungrateful for your kindness in sending me such a 
bundle of news ? I trust your love of justice has pre- 
vented you from rendering such a decision without 
hearing any witness on my side of the question. True, 
the three weeks which have passed since receiving 
those tokens of your thoughtful regard, testify rather 
loudly against me; but listen, now, while I plead my 
own cause. But, let me see, what is there in your let- 
ter requiring an answer? 

You ask for further account of Miss Schuster's 
courtship, but there is nothing to tell Just now. It has 
been nearly two months since I left Dresden, and only 
two weeks ago I wrote to her for the first time. I'll 
let you know, if ever I get an answer. I received a 
letter from Mr. Eudolph to-day, in which was enclosed 
one I had sent him for criticism. It is marked on 
every page, but I do not feel discouraged. German 
is not to be learned in a day, and all agree in saying I 
have made unusual progress for the time I have studied. 



LETTER TWENTY-FOUR. 241 

I like to compose in German, and hope through the 
combined aid of Mr. R. and my new teacher to acquire 
an easy, natural and correct style. My present in- 
structress is a Polish lady, and, as is common with her 
nationality, she has a special forte for language. She 
comes four times a week, twice for French, and twice 
for German. My French grammar has all its rules 
and notes written in German, so there is not a word of 
English in it. I am nearly through the grammar, 
ready to practice reading and conversation. French 
is quite easy, except the pronunciation, and my 
teacher pushes me all the time. She wants me to 
advance as far in French under her instruction as in 
German under the instruction of Prof. Eudolph. 
This, together with letter-writing and sight-seeing 
keeps me quite busy. The other ladies in the pension 
spend their evenings together in the drawing-room, 
but Kate and I usually remain in our own cozy cham- 
ber, reading or writing. This excites the curiosity 
of the rest, and leads them into surmises most amus- 
ing to ourselves. 

A little incident which occurred two or three weeks 
since, first gave rise to these surmises. The " coffee- 
pot woman " knocked on my door one morning, and, 
as I bade her come in, she opened it. 

" Oh ! " she exclaimed, " I thought this was Mad- 
am R.'s room," and turned to go; but she caught 
sight of my unabridged dictionary, and paused with 
sudden amazement. 

"What is that?" and the expression of her face 

16 



242 THE BIG BOOK. 

agreed with the emphasis in her voice, ** What do 
you want with such a big family Bible? " 

I laughed, and explained the nature of the work. 

"A dictionary! And you brought that all the way 
from America! I never saw such a big book! Are 
you not sorry you brought it? " 

I had to make some satisfactory excuse, so I told 
her that in writing for publication it was necessary to 
have such a volume for reference. 

"Ah I so?" she said, and, for once, she found her- 
self speechless. 

A few days after, at luncheon, there came a discus- 
sion over some word which Signor Martinucci claimed 
to be English, but which no one else had ever seen. 
'■^Flotsatn" was the word. To settle the dispute, I 
brought in my " family Bible." A murmur of sur- 
prise ran all round the table at sight of the ponderous 
volume. After Mr. Webster had asserted his author- 
ity in favor of Signor M., I withdrew, and I do not 
doubt my reason for carrying the big book was then 
communicated by the little woman. I loaned Signor 
M. my copy of Popular Science Monthly, and he 
returned it with high praise of its contents, 

"Are you connected with the magazine? " he asked 
of Kate. 

The idea of our writing for such a journal as that 
is quite absurd; but this impression is due to our stu- 
dious habits, and to the presence of the dictionary. 
This week we had some new arrivals, who are blessed 
with an unusual amount of curiosity and blarney. The 
first day after they came I was in the drawing-ro-om. 



LETTER TWENTT-FOUR. 243 

and although I was busily engaged in conning my les- 
son, one of them began to catechise me. 

"Are there many English in this house?" was her 
opening query. 

*' Yes, nearly all are English," I answered briefly. 
- " Don't you think the English are very stiff in their 
manners?" she continued. 

" I have not been in England, so I could not say," 
was my reply. 

"But," she persisted, " you have met many English; 
now, tell me the truth." 

" Why, you are English, are you not? " I asked; 
for I knew she only wanted to get me to say something 
she could repeat. 

" Well, well, you know they are stiff and conceited, 
and not very clever at that — of course, I mean the 
women," she rejoined. "For my part, I like the 
Americans. What part of America are you from?" 

I told her the name of my native State, and then 
she wanted to know whether it was a Southern or a 
Northern division. 

"It's a Western State," T answered, "but a good 
many miles south of New York." 

"But I mean was it with the North or the South 
during the war ? ' ' 

"About half went one way and half the other," was 
my evasive reply, for I saw she was only quizzing me. 

" But which side were you for? " 

" I was too young to take sides; but, as my father 
owned slaves, my interests were with the South." 

** Oh I yes," she said, " and those Southern families 



244 STRANGE PEOPLE. 

are the best in the United States I They have the 
bluest blood I They know how to be polite and agree- 
able ? I knew you were an American as soon as I came 
into the room." 

It was in order to know whether to praise the North 
or the South that she questioned me so closely. 

" I don't find so many Americans traveling this 
year as usual; why is that? " was her next query. 

" Because money is too scarce. Our people have 
been too extravagant, and now they are suffering for 
it." 

*' Well, then," she said, " those whom we meet this 
season will be more select. Only the most distin- 
guished can come abroad now, I suppose," and she 
looked at me with an affectation of special deference. 

This was a little too much, so I got rid of her by 
beginning anew my interrupted lesson; but, next day, 
I was again in the parlor, and again they Joined me. 
This time the sister began : — 

"Always busy ! always busy ! I dare say there will 
soon appear a work on Florence, as a result of your 
continual writing." 

" Oh ! yes," I answered lightly ; " you'll be going 
to the library for that instead of Ruskin." 

" You must tell me your name," she said, '* so that 
I will recognize it when I see it in print. But you'll 
probably send me a copy with the compliments of the 
author." 

" To be sure I To be sure I " was my only response. 

*' Why was the American flag hung out at your 



LETTER TAVENTY-rOUR. 245 

consul's yesterday?" she inquired, after a few min- 
utes. 

I explained that it was in honor of " Thanksgiving 
Day " at home. 

' ' I suppose you carry a little flag with you all the 
time ; do you not ? " 

I laughed at the absurdity of this idea, when she 
said she had known an American lady who did so, and 
who, in traveling, always used a small one for a 
pocket handkerchief. 

" It is a beautiful flag ! " she went on to say. 

" Do you think they will return Grant at the next 
election as President? " 

" No, Ihope not," was ray reply. " We have better 
men in our country." 

' ' Do you have a vote ? ' ' 

I told her I had not, and did not want any, when she 
explained : — 

" I thought perhaps, being an authoress you might 
have that privilege." 

This was almost too much for my gravity; but I 
saw she had been making inquiries about us, and I de- 
termined not to let her know how correct were the sur- 
mises of our fellow-boarders. 

" I have never proclaimed myself an authoress," 
was my equivocal response, leaving her curiosity as 
much unsatisfied as ever. 

I think they are Irish, as they give proof of long 
proximity to the ♦< blarney-stone." One of them says 
she always has such profound respect for American 



246 " MRS. BLAENET.'* 

intellect, that she supposes them capable of anything. 
She'll find me capable of eluding all her attempts to 
find out anything about me. 

There is, in the house, a German youth, a boy pos- 
sessed of modest good sense inherited from his mother, 
who is here with him. *'Mrs. Blarney" said to 
him : — 

*' One can find instruction in music anywhere in 
Germany ; for the very soul of music is in every one 
of your people ; now, isn't it? " 

The boy made her a sensible reply to the effect that 
this could not be affirmed so broadly; but that, in al- 
most every German town, there are good facilities for 
the study of music. She was evidently disappointed 
that Karl took none of the compliment to himself. 

One of the Miss Frodshams rebuffed her, accord- 
ing to her merits, the other day. Mrs. F. and her 
three daughters are very plain, unassuming people, 
quite wise enough to measure their own talents and 
accomplishments. *' Mrs. Blarney " (I don't know 
the creature's name) was playing, and at the conclu- 
sion of her piece, she asked Mrs. F. to take her place 
at the piano. 

*' I do not know a note," said Mrs. F. 

"But your daughter is an exquisite performer," 
was the flatterer's reply. 

' ' That she is not ! ' ' answered the young lady her- 
self, in a tone which showed her sincerity and her 
disgust. 



LETTER TWENTY-FIVE. 247 

The truth is, she plays only moderately well ; no 
one could truthfully call her playing exquisite, so she 
considered it rather an insult to be thus praised. 

You may call this a continuation of my last week's 
gossip to President. It is very amusing to encounter 
daily such variety of character, and I like to describe 
them for the pleasure of recalling them hereafter. 
Madam Runge has just now' come in, and wants us to 
go with her to the Waldensian church, to hear Prof. 
°Cumba on the subject of judicial oaths. He is to 
speak in Italian ; but I can at least see the people, and 
I may be able to get a few ideas. We hear often from 
Vachel, and his prospects for improvement seem very 
satisfactory. Kate's health is much improved. Write 
me another good, newsy letter, in answer to this one. 

EXJDOKA. 



LETTER XXV, 



Florence, Italy, December 1, 1875. 
Dear Brother Graham : 

JIC^ HAVE chosen for my theme this week one of the 
^ innumerable monuments of Florentine history. 
One can not walk a square iu this Tuscan capital without 
coming upon some building made sacred by association 



248 THE MONASTRY. 

with past struggles for freedom. But few, how- 
ever, posess a higer degree of this peculiar interest 
thao the Monastry of San Marco. Founded in 1290, it 
witnessed the banishment of the liberty-loving Dante, 
and gradual rise of despotic Medici ; it sheltered for a 
time the ardent, purity-preaching Savonarola, through 
whose influence Florence received a taste of republic- 
anism; it stands now with its inscription, " i^^oreu- 
tine Museum of 8 an Marco, ''^ as proof that under 
Yictor Emanuel convents are to become rare curiosi- 
ties. One franc opened for us the door over which 
this was written, and we passed the threshold, pressed 
for centuries by the bare feet of monks going forth to 
beg their daily bread, or returning laden with the 
results of their petitions. I wonder at what these 
poor beggars looked as they were entering, or 
upon what their last glance lingered as they were 
departing. For my part, I saw first the bright green 
grass, covering the large square inclosed by the clois- 
ters, and from this raised my eyes to the soft blue of 
an Italian sky. No one could draw from this source 
the aspiration needed for a life of seclusion and auster- 
ity ; I think a frequent contemplation of this little 
glimpse of the beautiful world would have made their 
confinement unendurable. 

'* St. Dominick at the foot of the cross, looking up 
with deepest grief at the suffering Savior, by Fra. 
Angelico," read Kate from our guide-book. We were 
at one corner of a colonnade which extends around the 
whole square, and on the wall just opposite appeared 



LETTER TWENTY-FIVE. 249 

the fresco thus described. There he knelt, the founder 
of the order, and in his face was .not only grief, but also 
a longing to share the sufferings which he witnessed. 
In ,the lunette opposite another pair of pillars, is the 
consummation of this longing ; for there the saint holds 
in his hand a cat-o-nine with which to lay many a 
heavy stroke upon his bare shoulders. Quite near him 
is St. Peter Martyr with the blood flowing from his 
brow, as if, he too, had worn a crown of thorns; and 
the finger pressed upon his lip forbids any cry of pain, 
though the knife of the executioner is being thrust to 
his heart. By fixing such scenes as these upon their 
minds must the former inmates of the monastery have 
reconciled themselves to their lot of voluntary priva- 
tion and discomfort. 

Passing on around the square till the second corner 
was reached we entered the large refectory, where the 
monks were sent to partake of their frugal meals. 
An appropriate fresco adorns the plastered wall at one 
end of the apartment. It represents a number of the 
brethren around a long table on which no food is to 
be seen. St. Dominick is the central figure, whose 
attitude is that of prayer. While his eyes are still 
closed and his hands still raised in supplication, two 
youths in shining garments appear, bringing the loaves 
and wine for which the brethren had that day begged 
in vain. This miracle is said to have been really 
wrought by St. Dominick, and doubtless with this pict- 
ure ever before them, the monks learned to trust to 
Providence for their sustenance. 



250 CHAPTEE-HOUSE. 

The next door led into the chapter-house, where 
we found ourselves in the presence of one of Fra 
Angelico's grandest compositions. This pious man is 
said to have always begun a picture with prayer, and 
never to have changed the design, because he believed 
■the conception had been given him by a higher power. 
Perhaps that is why there is so much spiritual beauty 
in the faces produced by his brush. This picture in 
the chapter-house is a crucifixion and all the figures are 
life size. The thief on the left, seems in the very act 
of uttering his words of satanic scorn, while around 
the head of him on the right is a delicate halo, indica- 
tion of the honor he is to share. At the foot of the 
cross the Virgin is just fainting into the arms of the 
two Marys and the beloved John. On the left, are 
John the Baptist, St. Mark, St. Lawrence; on the 
right is a grand array of the fathers of the church. 
I leave the anachronisms to be reconciled by the one 
who can; but after having studied the big-headed, 
long-limbed, stiff jointed subjects of Cimabue, one 
must be charmed with the grace, dignity and symme- 
try of every robed priest and weeping Mary. We 
looked long at the host of saints i and left with a very 
favorable impression of their characters. If Fra 
Angelico has not flattered them by making their faces 
a mirror of his own soul, they were surely men in 
whom religious fervor had the ascendancy over every 
other emotion. 

Climbing now a broad stairway, we found ourselves 
at the entrance to along corridor, on each side of which 



LETTER TWENTY-FIVE. 251 

are the cells formerly occupied by the monks, but now 
inhabited only by the creatures of Fra Angelico's 
genius. These little rooms are about seven feet by 
six, and are each lighted by a single window not much 
larger than those in the prison of Chillon. The floors 
are all of brick, from which the cold penetrated my 
thick boots. How could those poor barefooted monks 
endure a Florentine winter without fire or carpets ! 
But each cell is redeemed from utter cheerlessness by 
the gleaming wings of an announcing angel, the glori- 
ous light of a Transfiguration, or the gladdening view 
of an Ascension. The Annunciation is Angelico's 
favorite theme, and the beauty with which he renders it 
is marvelous. In one of them, especially, the angel 
looks as if he were indeed the bearer of a message in- 
to whose mystery he desires to look, while Mary, a 
young and simple maiden, seems overcome with awe 
and wonder. You may have seen copies of this artist's 
angels, for they are being continually reproduced and 
sent to various parts of the globe. 

The southern corridor has cells on only one side, and 
to these the novices used to be assigned, where they 
could be under the immediate care of the Prior. His 
room opens out in the hall at the far end, just as the 
teachers' rooms at Hocker, and was so constructed 
for a similar purpose. The young brethren under his 
charge sometimes became refractory, and as a punish- 
ment they were not unfrequently tied for hours to 
a long bench furnished with rings for the adjustment 
of cords. Not a bad idea, but perhaps plenty of 



252 ROOM OF THE PRIOR. 

work to do would have been a better cure. We only 
peeped into the tiny cells of the novices, and then 
hastened on to that of the Prior. Over this door a 
marble slab makes known the fact that Leo X., visited 
this chamber in 1516, and, in honor of Savonarola, 
promised a ten years' indulgence to any one who 
should pay a similar visit. We went in at once, and if 
Leo X.'s authority over Savanarola's surplus store of 
grace still exists, we may indulge, for the next ten 
years, in any kind of wickedness, without fear of con- 
sequences. I must admit, however, it was not faith 
in papal promises which led us into the recesses of 
the innermost cell ; it was that more unwavering prin- 
ciple, curiosity. We wished to see the" long-treasured 
relics of the celebrated, despised, persecuted, and 
finally condemned Savanarola. His hair-shirt, his 
rosary, several sermons in his own neat hand writing, 
books with notes on the margin, and a bit of wood from 
the pile used at his execution, are all preserved in a 
glass case. Beneath this case is his chair, almost fall- 
ing to pieces with age. Two or three of the party sat 
down in the chair, but I didn't risk it; for I didn't 
want the trouble of ransacking all the antiquity shops 
in the city, for the purpose of finding another to re- 
place it. There are no frescoes in this room, but on 
the wall hangs a strikingly life like portrait of this great 
martyr to the love of liberty and purity. The paint- 
ings are by Fra Bartollommeo, over whose life Savana- 
rola had such an influence, that, after their acquaintance, 



LETTER TWENTY-SIX. 253 

the artist destroyed all the works of his previous life, 
because they were taken from profane subjects. 

In the adjoining room is an attempt at portraying the 
scene on the twenty-ninth of May, 1498, as Savanarola 
and his two companions were led forth and bound to 
the stake in the center of Piazza Signoria. With the 
glad thought that the struggles and death of such men 
have not been in vain, but have at last wrought out 
the freedom of Italy, we retraced our steps to the 
entrance door. 

EUDOEA. 



LETTER XXYl. 



Florence, December 5, 1875. 
Dear Brother South : 

OUR last letter reached me Just one week ago, 
af teT I had been several days anxiously expecting 
its arrival. I am now in the drawing room, in the 
midst of a chatting company. I don't know how I am 
to succeed in writing under such circumstances ; but, 
perhaps I can concentrate my thoughts on you. 
Madam B,. has a German caller, and, as they are sit- 
ting near me, I feel quite tempted to listen to what 
they are saying in that fascinating tongue. Mr. L., a 
yoting, black- haired, blue- eyed Englishman is over by 



254 TLORENCE. 

the stove; and, ever and anon, he addresses some 
remarks to Miss Skey, a very stiff, proper young lady, 
whose nearness to the fire yet fails to thaw her into 
graceful flexibility. Kate and I had yesterday quite 
an animated discussion with Miss Latimer, in regard 
to American manners and customs. I told her that a 
young gentleman might xjall on me once a week for a 
year, and might spend with me at each call an hour in 
conversation, and yet neither of us ever think of being 
anything more than friends. She was much surprised 
at this; for, she says English girls never get an 
opportunity to associate in that way with gentlemen ; 
their mothers must always be present at such calls, 
and it is taken for granted that the gentleman has 
matrimonial intentions. 

Miss S. is not to blame then, if, in common with her 
English sisters, she is stiff and proper. They have no 
opportunity to cultivate ease of manner in presence of 
young gentlemen. 

There is also in the room, a little girl seven years 
old, who is here at Florence in a boarding-school. 
She spent last year in France, where she learned to 
speak the language fluently, and she is now prosecuting 
Italian. She is the daughter of the " Coffee-pot 
woman," and seems almost as mature as her mother. 
She says she doesn't let any of her schoolmates know 
she is English, for she wants them to talk to her only 
in French. Her ma intends her to learn all the Euro- 
pean tongues by the time she is fourteen. Just now, 
she seems to have very good command of English, as 



LETTER TWENTY-SIX, 255 

she is counting aloud for the benefit of Miss Skey. 
You see now, under what distracting circumstances I 
am trying to write ; but I iuust sit here to save the 
expense of a fire in our room. Wood is very dear in 
Italy, yet the constant rain for a week past renders it 
quite disagreeable both in doors and out. In a letter 
received to-day, one of Kate's friends says: ■ — 

" I envy you your sojourn in sunny Italy.'* 

This seems rather a burlesque, as we haven't seen 
the sun for six days, and there is now no prospect of 
his appearance. Moreover, they say, it is no new 
trick for the soft sky to thus veil itself in clouds dur- 
ing the fall. I say during the fall, but this is really 
winter — December, almost Christmas It is just six 
months to-day, since the Elysia started with us across 
the ocean, and I must admit the six months was longer 
in anticipation than in reality. 

You spoke in your letter of investing in Hocker 
College stock. If you do, I shall expect you to use 
your influence to give me a good salary as teacher of 
mathematics and languages. The school would never 
seem the same to me, though, without President Gra- 
ham at the head of affairs. But into whatever hands 
it may fall, I wish to my " Alma Mater " the greatest 
prosperity. 

In my last I £jave you a little talk about Italian 
painters. In my letter to President I have spoken of 
the works of Era Angelico. Perhaps you would like 
to know more of his history. He was born in 1387, at 
Fiesole, a town on one of the hills overlooking 



256 FRA ANGFXICO. 

Florence. At the age of ten, he entered a Dominican 
convent, where he received the name of Giovanni 
(John), instead of his real name Guido. He won the 
title " Angelic" from the simple piety of his life, and 
from the supernatural beauty of the winged messenger 
in his picture of the Annunciation. At the age of 
forty-nine, he came to Florence with the rest of his 
brotherhood, who took up their residence at San 
Marco. This convent had belonged to the Sylvestrine 
monks ; but for their immorality, they were deprived 
of their home, which was given to the Dominicans. 
San Marco was in need of repair, so Cosimo de 
Medici employed Michelozzi as architect, and Angelico 
as frescoer. He loved best to portray religious senti- 
ment; indeed, there was so little of evil in his own 
nature, that he has generally failed to render vicious 
characters true to nature. He has painted a " Last 
Judgment," in which are a number of figures; those 
on the right of the judge seem filled with happiness ; 
those on the left are wretchedness personified. Many 
popes, monks, and priests are on the right, and a few 
of the same classes on the left. One young lady in 
our boarding-house, when noticing this, said : — 

" I'm glad that at least a few of these professional 
hypocrites are to reap their reward." 

Of course, she is one of the " heretical Protestants," 
who, in the present subjection of the Pope, make bold 
to express their opinions right here in the home of 
Catholicism. 

There were many things of interest in San Marco, 



LETTER TWENTY-SIX. 257 

besides those I found space to mention in the Times. 
In one cell was a framed list of the most prominent 
among the former inmates of the monastery. Among 
these is the name of Savonarola, and so many times 
has it been k' jJ by his admirers that by the friction 
of their lips it is well nigh obliterated. 

In a long room on the north of the cloisters is an 
array of four hundred banners of the different States 
of Italy. They are all of the finest silk, and of bright- 
est hues. These standards were used in a procession 
on the sixth hundredth anniversary of Dante's birth- 
day. The king of Italy headed the procession, and all 
the people rejoiced in the consummation of the poet's 
ardent desire for the freeing of Italy from a foreign 
yoke. That was in 1865. The banners of Venice 
were then draped in mourning for the liberty which 
that State has now regained. A bust of Dante occupies 
the far end of the hall, and one can but wish that his 
sad countenance could be brightened up by understand- 
ing the significance of the surroundino- scene. He 
died in exile, and his bones rest in a foreign city, but 
his life was not in vain. He gave a fixed form to 
the Italian language, and thus opened for them a 
means of communication with other and free nations. 
Besides this, he breathed into his works such a spirit 
of patriotism that it is imbibed by his every reader. 

Adjoining this hall is a large library, which opens 
into a kind of secret chamber where were formerly 
locked up volumes forbidden by the church. It is 
accessible now, but a greater part of the six hundred 

17 



258 AN OLD LIBRAET. 

books, and many valuable MSS. have been removed 
elsewhere, so the shelves are almost empty. In glass 
cases, extending the full length of the room, are 
exhibited the hymn books recently collected from the 
suppressed convents in the different parts of Tuscany. 
They are immense volumes when spread open, about 
two feet square. They are printed or written in 
Latin; the notes are square and six times as large as 
those of the present day. Every page is illuminated 
at the top and sides with gay-colored pictures, many 
of them carefully executed. The priors encouraged 
the nuns in this kind of work, because they found idle- 
ness very demoralizing. The bindings of what few 
books appear on the shelves are very forbidding, 
almost lock enough in themselves to prevent investi- 
gation of contents. They are of leather very thick and 
dark with age, and this is protected from wear by 
short spikes buried in the thick composition of the 
backs. Indeed, for aught I know, this part may be 
wood into which the nails are simply driven. I wish 
you could see these things, for words can give very 
little conception of what we saw. I have spent no 
morning more delightfully than that one in San Marco. 
I think, in my last letter, I mentioned the name of 
Massaccio. Both in point of time, and in reference to 
his works, he was nearly half way between Giotto and 
Raphael. There is little known of his life, except 
that he died in debt ; but poverty is a frequent atten- 
dant upon genius. I have been this week to the Car- 
mine Church, to see some of his finest paintings. One" 



LETTEE TWENTY-SIX. 259 

of these is a baptism, in which the subjects go down 
into the water, and have the water poured upon the 
head. One has just risen out of the water, and, as he 
is very slightly clothed, he is shivering with the cold. 
The thing is so lifelike you can almost hear his teeth 
chatter. Another scene represents Peter in prison, 
and Paul standing without, conversing with him. The 
figure of Paul is so commanding, that Eaphael, one 
hundred years later, has copied it in his scene of 
" Paul on Mars Hill." Opposite this, is Peter 
released from prison by an angel in beautifully flowing 
garments. Again, Peter before Nero, with a look of 
scorn upon his face, hears that tyrant pronounce upon 
him the sentence of death, and seems not to quail, 
though the fierce executioner has already, with eager- 
ness, laid hold upon him to lead him forth. Wherever 
the fiery Apostle appears, he is vested with that dig- 
nity and force which are consistent with his character. 
His expression softens into benignity, as he extends a 
hand to restore the poor cripple at the ''Beautiful 
Gate of the Temple;" he seems almost awed at his 
own power as he calls back to life the beloved Tabitha; 
he shows his impetuosity as be falls into a dispute with 
the Son of Man himself. Out in the cloisters is a 
remnant of another of this great master's works. In 
it is an old monk, sitting in front of his cave, his 
round face spread into a broad grin. Before him 
kneels a young brother whose face shows plainly that 
he is restraining by force of will, a laugh which is 
shaking his frame. Behind these two was a third com- 



260 MASSACCIO. 

ing down a hill, but the poor fellow has been sentenced 
to capital punishment, and nothing remains of him but 
his drapery. This much, however, is carefully pre- 
served, and has been copied hundreds of times; for 
drapery was this artist's special forte. Cimabue and 
his school knew no more how to ma,ke folds and full- 
ness to a dress or rolie than 1 did when I first began to 
draw on my slate. 

The company has become so noisy I shall have to 
desist. Write soon again ; it is always a long time 
from one letter to the next, in however quick succes- 
sion they may come. Yours truly, 

EUDORA. 



LETTER XXVII. 



Florence, December 7, 1875. 
Dear Brother Vachel: 

f OUGHT to answer your letter, and I ought to 
make apologies for not having written sooner ; but I 
want first to tell you how we spent yesterday morning 
from eleven till one. At the former hour, we pre- 
sented ourselves for admission at the door of the Egypto- 
Etruscan museum ; for the consideration of a franc, the 
gray-haired custodian allowed us to enter; and, for the 
next two hours, we were amid remnants of the centu- 



LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 261 

ries before Christ. In the first two rooms, we found 
on glass-protected shelves along the walls, specimens 
of Etruscan pottery, from the rude introduction to the 
polished perfection of the art. In the beginning, the 
heat of the sun was the only agent used in the baking 
of the clay, which process leaves them of a dirty yel- 
low hue ; but this is succeeded by some method which 
gives the clay the appearance of ebony. These vessels 
have all been found in Etruscan vaults, and were prob- 
ably used at the banquets, which it was then customary 
to hold in the chambers of the dead. Their ornaments 
are some simple designs emblematic of immortality. 
On some of the urns of the ashes for the cremated are 
heads representing the ghosts of the departed. A 
kind of circular tray, filled with cups, saucers, bowls, 
spoons, and other articles of kitchen furniture are sup- 
posed to have been placed in the tombs of mothers, who 
during life had to use such articles in ministering to the 
wants of their families. The jugs are at first of yel- 
low, sun-baked earth, and without handles ; gradually 
the material is improved, and one handle after another 
is added, till the beautifully proportioned Hydria, or 
water jar, is produced. 

From the pottery-room is the entrance to a tomb 
constructed in imitation of the old Etruscan vaults. 
We asked the custodian to show us down ; but he per- 
suaded us it was only a dark, dirty hole, and as we had 
only two hours any way, we passed on to the next 
room. Here, we found vases of Greek origin, 
adorned with painting instead of reliefs. How old 



262 ETRUSCAN MUSEUM. 

these are can not be told ; but their manufacture ceased 
360 B. C. They were highly prized, as is proved by 
the fact that they were used as rewards in the Grecian 
games. The color of these vases is first ashen, or 
dull brown, with figures painted in black, except the 
faces of the females, which are white. The finest style, 
however, has a ground of black with pictures in red. 

In. the next room were toys of various kinds made 
of terra-cotta. Among these is the head of an old 
woman who is blind in one eye, deeply wrinkled, and 
has her mouth open and twisted hideously to one side, 
thus displaying her single remaining tooth. It is cu- 
rious to think of these old-time Egyptians as babies to 
be amused by such oddities. 

In a cabinet beyond is a collection of gold ornaments, 
the prettiest of which is a pair of gold ear-rings in 
the form of a lion's head; from the mouth of the lion 
hangs a tiny basket of filigree work with a dove 
perched on top. A case of Etruscan coins begins with 
a bronze piece two inches in diameter and half an inch 
thick, stamped with the clumsy figure of a wheel ; at 
the other end of the case are minutely exquisite pieces 
of o:old. A curious suit of armor moulded so as to 
exactly fit the body is carefully treasured up. Every 
rib can be traced. Two bronze statues, one of Minerva, 
one of an orator, prove that the Etruscans were far 
advanced in the art of casting in this metal. In the 
" Hall of the Orator " is a very large stone sarcopha- 
gus, which was exhumed after an interment of several 



LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 263 

centuries. It could not have been made earlier than 
the time of Alexander the Great, yet it is covered with 
paintings equal to those of Raphael. The scene is a 
" Battle of the Amazons." The warrior women seem 
fitted to make conquests other than those made with the 
sword and spear, and the manly warriors contending 
with them seem to feel that this is true. One man has 
thrown his fair opponent from her noble white steed, 
and stands over her with spear raised ready to strike the 
death-blow. She raises her eyes in entreaty, and her 
hands to ward off the impending stroke ; he is over- 
come, his face softens with regret at the sight of sor- 
rowing, supplicating beauty; and I am sure only 
necessity can again set in hostile motion the relaxing 
muscles of his uplifted arm. It is wonderful to what 
perfection the Greeks have carried every department 
of the Fine Arts; Sculpture, Painting, Architecture, 
Poetry, all have they, centuries ago, developed to an 
unrivaled degree. 

I can not even mention a hundreth part of the things 
we saw ; but an Egytian war chariot I distinctly recall. 
It is made wholly of wood bound together with 
thongs of leather. The two wheels are furnished with 
only four spokes each, placed at right angles to each 
other. The place on which the charioteer used to stand 
is made of a semi-circle of wood filled in with plaited 
straws something like the bottom of a chair. Mum- 
mies you saw in Dresden, but you haven't seen wheat 
grown from seed found in mummy-cases. A large sheaf 



264 NATIONAL MUSEUM. 

of such wheat is one of the curiosities here. There is 
also a stone cage some eight feet high, in which the 
Sacred Hawk of the Egytians was formerly kept. 

We didn't have time to examine the papyri covered 
with hieroglyphics, nor to study into the designs with 
which the innumerable stone cippi (boxes for holding 
the ashes of the dead) are adorned. We paused some- 
time before a frescoe of the Last Supper, attributed 
to Raphael. Judas sits alone on the side of the table 
opposite Christ ; John, a beautiful youth, sits next to 
the Beloved Master ; Peter is not far off, near enough, 
indeed, to lean forward and whisper into the ear of 
John. The hands, from their great variety of posi- 
tions, and their naturalness of proportions, are the 
most attractive part of the picture. It is not quite 
sure that this is the work of Raphael ; but this house 
was formerly a convent, and, so far as known, he is 
the only man ever admitted into its sacred precincts. 
I hope the above details are not altogether too dry for 
your enjoyment; but I find it quite difficult to repro- 
duce in words this mute array of witnesses to the cul- 
tivation of the ancients. 

December 9th. — We have been, to-day, to the Bar- 
gello, or National Museum, the one of which you spoke 
in your last. We were quite impressed with the old 
stone walls, as we viewed them from without, and even 
more so as we gained access to the inner court and 
stood under the broad, Roman arches of the surround- 
ing colonnade. It hasn't the appearance of a prison, 
but rather of a palace, and such it was till the sixteenth 



LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 265 

century. It was built in 1250, for the chief magistrate 
of Florence; but, in the beginning of the sixteenth 
century, its large, handsome rooms were divided into 
prison cells, and from that time till 1865, it covered 
with its prison walls many a tragic scene. In the cen- 
ter of the court, is a well around which many a victim 
has been beheaded, and with whose waters the stains 
of blood have been washed away. 

In a room on the ground floor, is a collection of 
armor and weapons, conspicuous among which is a 
monster cannon bearing the arms of the Medici. The 
closed end is ornamented by the head of a man more 
than life size ; his baldness exposes to view such 
" bumps " as might belong to a philosopher; his well 
cut features and flowing beard are a fit accompaniment 
for the broad brow. About half way between tlio ends 
of the cannon, two lions recline. I never saw so mag- 
nificent a piece of artillery. Its bore is not so 
immense as that of old " Mons Meg," at Edinboro 
Castle, but there is much more metal in its composi- 
tion. 

By a handsome staircase we ascended to the upper 
floor. The landing is in what we would call a porch, 
but what the Italians call " loggia,'^ In this porch are 
three old bells, not hanging, but resting on broad, thick 
blocks. One of them was made in Pisa in 1228, and 
is enjoying " a green old age." A large saloon to the 
right of this porch is filled with statuary, none of it 
remarkable, however, except the " Djing Adonis," 
and a " Victory," by Michael Angelo. Adonis has 



266 OLD RELICS. 

been wounded bj a wild boar, and the flesh torn by 
the tusk of the animal is gaping open and bleeding ; 
he is supporting his head -with his right hand, but jt 
begins to droop, and the lips are parted with the ghast- 
liness of death; in his left hand, is the hunting horn, 
but you can see the fingers are relaxing their hold 
upon it. 

* * Victory ' ' represents an old man crushed down by 
one in the vigor of youth. It is in an unfinished state, 
and there could be had no better memento of the great 
sculptor, for he was noted for failing to keep his prom- 
ises when engaged to perform a certain work. In 
the Academy of Arts is a Matthew just far enough 
advanced to make it evident that something in the form 
of a man is trying to struggle out of the hard marble. 
This is as far as he progressed in fulfilling a promise 
to make the ''Twelve Apostles" to adorn a certain 
building — but I am digressing. 

In the next room were specimens of crystal, porce- 
lain, and a few old crucifixes brought from some sup- 
pressed convent. On the walls of one chamber, are 
dim frescoes by Giotto, among them -a portrait of Dante 
in his youth. These were covered for years, with 
white-wash, when some one, an American, I believe, 
suspected their existence, and induced a wealthy noble- 
man to undertake the search for them. I do not know, 
how they manage to remove long accumulations of 
white-wash without destroying the picture; but it has 
been done in many instances* with the frescoes of the old 
masters. This portrait of Dante, if it really be he, is 



LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 267 

quite different from any other that I have seen. He 
looks joyous and content. It must have been painted 
before the death of his Beatrice. By the way, my 
German teacher told me, the other day, a little anecdote 
of Dante. 

One day he was walking the streets of Milan, when 
he heard a silver smith singing over his work one of 
the songs of Dante's composition, and so unmercifully 
did he butcher the words that the idea was entirely 
destroyed. Dante listened till he could endure it no 
longer, when he entered the shop, seized some of the 
smith's finished work, threw it on the floor, and tram- 
pled it under his feet in a rage. 

"Now," said he, "how do you like to see your 
work treated in this way? I have just as much right 
to tear your work to pieces, as you have to abuse mine, 
for I work as diligently with the brain as you do with 
the hand." 

The smith, at first furious over the insult offered 
him by a stranger, now raised his hat, and said: — 

*' I thank you for honoring me with the sight of the 
greatest man in Italy, and I promise never to repeat 
this morning's offense." 

But I'll never get through the museum at this rate. 
We passed hastily through the cabinet of ivory, crystal, 
and amber, for a glance showed them inferior to the 
Green Vaults. We found much of interest in the col- 
lection of bronzes. Donatello's David is a queer look- 
ing " chap " in point of costume. He has on abroad- 
brimmed shepherd's hat, which effectually shades his 



268 BRONZE ROOM. 

face from the sun ; his feet are carefully shod, and the 
legs covered nearly to the knees ; the rest of his out- 
fit is like that of Adam before the fall. This reminded 
me of Rubens' picture of his wife and child, which I 
saw at Munich; the little one is sitting on it mother's 
knee, and the only article of clothing of which it can 
boast is a hat with a long waving plume. I thought, 
too, in the s:ime connection, of something a little less 
classic — of a little negro boy who used to belong to 
our old friend Mrs. Howard. Bob was his name, I 
think. I was there one day, when Bob was taking the 
hot summer weather as coolly as possible — indeed, his 
bare, ebony limbs were in strong contrast with the 
one white garment which was his only article of 
apparel. 

" Bob, you must go to the blackberry-patch to get 
some berries for the ladies' supper, "called Mrs. H. 

"Yes, Missus," was the reply, " soon's I gits my 
shoes;" and, sure enough, with only this addition to 
his toilet. Bob set out to contend with the briers. 

I don't know whether " Sigrnro Donatello " would feel 
complimented by the vein of thought which his David 
opened for me ; can't help it, he should have left off the 
hat and boots, or else furnished him a complete costume. 
Now, Michael Angelo has his Davdi so prepared that 
nothmg can restrain the free use of the arm which is to 
hurl the missile of death ; no clumsy trappings are to 
hinder his flight, incase Goliah'shead should prove too 
hard for his pebble and he has no hat to be taken off by 
the wind thus compelling him to an undignified chase. 



LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN". 269 

In fact these sculptors, as a general thing, are more 
saving of drapery than even the painters of whose econ- 
omy you have spoken. 

Two reliefs of the " Sacrifice of Isaac " hang-ino; side 
by side on the opposite wall, are very interesting. They 
are by Lorenzo Ghiberti and Fillipo Brunnellesco, and 
were made four centuries ago, as these two workmen 
were contending for the job of making the Baptistery 
gates. Ghiberti succeeded, and made such a wonder- 
ful gate that Michael Angelo pronounced it fit to guard 
the entrance to Paradise. Knowing this, we were of 
course prejudiced in favor of G.'s " Sacrifice of Isaac," 
but I can give real reasons for my preference. In his 
scene, Isaac meekly presents his throat to the father's 
knife ; in the other, he is struggling to escape, and the 
force employed by Abraham seems brutal. G.'s ram 
is caught in a bush behind Abraham, where he can not 
see it; B.'s is directly in front of the patriarch. G.'s 
angel stays the hand of Abraham by his voice and 
points to the ram; B.'s angel rudely catches hold of 
the old man's arm, and is not so situated as to point 
out the substitute. G.'s servants with the ass are 
behind the mountain; B.'s are where they could see 
their master, and they would, of course, interfere to 
prevent the tragedy. But as you have never seen the 
wonderful gate of the Baptistery, this description is 
probably more interesting to you than to me. I will 
now answer your letter. 

You first comment on the amount of money we are 
spending. Well, be that as it may, we are living 



270 FLORENCE. 

cheaper than when in Dresden, where you made all 
the arrangements. We were advised not to take 
lodgings in Florence — advised by a disinterested per- 
son — because to go to a restaurant for meals is not a 
common thing with young ladies here, and to have our 
meals brought from a restaurant would cost more than 
pension. We are very comfortable here, and perfectly 
free from any evil remarks we might have brought on 
ourselves by taking apartments alone. The people 
with whom we meet are a source of much information 
and improvement. Our life here is quite different 
from that in Dresden, in that we are thrown into inti- 
mate association with so many people, and can study 
human nature on a broader scale. Your object in 
coming to Europe will have been attained, if you 
return with a better knowledge of your profession ; 
our time will have been lost, unless we learn much of 
the Old World; that is, of its people, for that's what 
the world is made of. While we were travel! no; 
through Germany, we often breakfasted and supped 
for as little as fifteen cents' worth of provision; but 
Kate doesn't get plump under such frugal treatment. 
When you join us again, we'll let you run the business 
for the firm; but for the present, I think our course is 
the best possible. I am' sorry to spend more than you 
think we ought, but I see no way to avoid it. When 
we go to Rome, we shall do as the sojourners in Rome 
do, and I think they are more in the habit of taking 
their meals out. 



LETTER TWENTY-SEVEN. 271 

My teacher claims to be delighted with my progress 
in my studies. To-day, 1 recited the four conjugations 
in French, and enumerated their points of difference, 
after which she said; — 

*'A11 that I can say is that it's wonderful.'* 

I see no motive to prompt her to flatter me, so I 
suppose I am doing at least passably well. I have no 
classmate with whom to compare progress, so I can 
only take her word. I do not study, though, as dili- 
gently as I did in Dresden, for there is much more to 
be seen in Florence, and much more to read in order 
to understand what is seen. From now on, I shall 
take only one German lesson a week, devoting three 
to French. I have begun to read and relate stories. 
My teacher is a sweet little woman, and very particu- 
lar to correct a false accent. I have read more than 
four hundred pages in my book of German dialogue. 
Mis& Denneberg, my teacher, likes to hear them read. 

I am glad you find the time so profitable in Vienna, 
and glad too, that you think of joining us soon. We 
are quite able to take care of ourselves, but quite will- 
ing to have your assistance. Let us know when you 
will meet us, and where — Naples, though, I suppose? 
We intend to leave January 1st, spend a month in 
Eome, then go to Naples February 1st. Ten days are 
enough there. Make out your programme now. Time 
flies with us ; I suppose it moves at no laggard pace 
with you. Write us further interesting accounts of 
Vienna, and believe me, your own sister, 

EUDORA. 



272 FLORENCE. 



LETTER XXVIII. 



Florence, December 12, 1875. 
My Dear Father and Mother: 

fT is now half past five, and we have just returned 
from the meeting of the Missionary Society con- 
nected the American Union Church. It has been but 
one month since their organization; yet according to 
this afternoon's report, much good has already been 
done. Clothing to the amount of one hundred and 
fifty francs (|30) has been sent in and distributed to 
those in need, cash to the same amount has been en- 
trusted to them for charitable purposes, in addition to 
the fees for membership. With the sum collected 
to-night, I think about one hundred dollars has been 
placed in their treasury, as a result of their first 
month's begging. This only shows how effective a 
systematic plan of operation maybe. 

After singing "Cast the Bread upon the Waters,'* 
the pastor introduced to the audience the Rev. Prof. 
Haine. His hair, eyes, and olive complexion pro- 
claimed him an Italian ; but as he began to address us, 
his excellent accent and correct construction of our 
tongue proved him to have had opportunities of care- 
ful culture. Our pastor had promised us some infor- 



LETTER TWENTY-EIGHT. 273 

Illation on the work of the Waldensians in Italy, and 
tlie young Professor began by saying he was thankful 
for the opportunity of telling to Americans the story of 
his church. In regard to the religious condition of 
this country, foreigners, he said, are generally ignor- 
ant. They suppose it to be wholly Catholic, and so 
blindly devoted to the Pope, that it is not suscep- 
tible of contrary instruction; hence they devote all 
their time to visiting museums and galleries, feeling in 
no wise responsible for the spiritual condition of Italy. 
For this reason, then, he was glad to be heard in the 
statement of a few simple facts, which would show 
that the pure gospel is already beginning to shed 
abroad its light over the whole land. The Walden- 
sians are not properly called either Protestants or 
Reformers, since, in the border mountains between 
Italy and France, they have existed as a free people 
centuries before the days of Luther. As far back as 
history reaches into the Middle Ages have they been 
separate from the church of Rome ; hence they claim 
to have been founded by the Apostles themselves. For 
six hundred years they suffered persecution ; only by 
fleeing to the mountain-inclosed valley, which has now 
been their home for many generations, were they able 
to escape the rigors of the Inquisition. Yet, even 
during those ages of persecution, they withheld not 
their hand from sowing the Good Seed. Secretly their 
ministers traversed the coast of the Mediterranean, 
teachino; and streno-thenina; the handfuls of converts 
they had made in the cities and villages on the sea ; 

18 



274 THE WALDENSIANS. 

secretly they turned their course northward along the 
Adriatic to Venice itself. Under the disguise of ped- 
dlers, colporteurs found access to private families, and 
along with their trifling wares, left precious volumes 
of God's Word. But in 1850, the most northern 
States of Italy became free, and immediately the Wal- 
densians sent missionaries to the field. 

*' It seems to me," said the speaker, " that we have 
been providentially kept at the very gate of the papal 
dominion that we might be ready at once to bring 
needed help. In 1859, Tuscany too threw off her 
yoke, and Florence, the very heart of Italy, became 
open to the once persecuted sect. Previous to this 
time their school of theology, through the instrumen- 
tality of Mr. and Mrs. Kevel, had been endowed, the 
greater part of the fund having been procured in the 
United States. I think Mr. E,. is dead, but I met Mrs. 
E. when I visited the school, and also again this after- 
noon. She has a frank, good face, and appears capa- 
ble of spending her life for the good of others. 
It was in 1860, as I said in my letter to Bro. Graham, 
that the school was transferred from its mountain home 
to the midst of the soft speaking Tuscans. I have 
already told you all about this school ; therefore, I shall 
not repeat what the Professor said under this head. He 
says there are now forty-two regularly conducted con- 
gregations connected with the schools of Italy, and, be- 
sides these, more than that number of points 
occasionally visited by their ministers. The largest 
congreffation numbers from two hundred to two hun- 



LETTER TWENTY-EIGHT. 275 

dred and fifty; the smallest from fifty to a hundred. 
Two of these regular congregations are in Florence, 
and are doing much good. I attended one of them 
about two weeks since, to hear one of the Professors 
on the subject of judicial odths. The priests, who go 
as far as they dare in opposition to the government, 
teach their ignorant followers that as they know noth. 
ing of the Bible, it is a fearful sin for them to swear 
by it. This, of course, causes much trouble when they 
are summoned as witnesses in court. Prof. Cumbah 
labored to show that there is no scriptural ground for 
opposing the taking of the oath. 

Prof. Haine's address throughout was characterized 
by simplicity and force, and I can believe that he is 
fired with zeal for the salvation of Italy. He said: — 

' ' Though only a mountain range separates us from 
France, our rivers all flow towards Italy, and our 
hearts are also turned southward. Within a fortnight 
after Victor Emanuel's troops had entered the gates 
of Rome, we had a missionary there at work; and, 
now, from the icy foot of Mont Blanc to the burning 
foot of iEtna is our influence felt." 

At the close of his remarks he offered an opportunity 
for those present to purchase a little book giving a full 
account of the Waldensians. I have one of them, and 
shall bring it home for you to read. 

I do enjoy the church privileges here, and already 
reiri'et that the time to leave Florence is so near at 
hand. Three weeks more and we really must go. 
But Mrs. Kittridge gave me to-day the number of the 



276 FLORENCE. 

American church in Rome, and we shall doubtless find 
warm hearts there. I have been so happy here; 
Kate's health has been good ; I have made some pro- 
gress in French and German ; we have found much to 
see and learn; friends write me sweet letters from 
home; cheering news from Vachel comes now and 
then; there is nothing more to desire except that you, 
my dear parents, should cease to be uneasy about me. 
Never mind, when we get home, you will be glad we 
have enjoyed such opportunities of improvement. I 
have not learned to think less of my own land; but, 
on the contrary, we find, each day, new reasons to 
love it. Don't read so many accounts of shipwrecks ; 
this is the season for them, as the sea is always stormy 
in the fall. We are coming home in the summer. 
Put away with your gloomy forebodings for the sake of 
Your daughter, 

EUDOEA. 



LETTER XXIX. 



Florence, Italy, December 15, 1875. 
Dear Brother Graham: 

SPENT about five hours on Monday in the Pitti 
Palace, and had to pay a whole franc for the priv- 
ilege, too. I might have gone on Sunday, and thus 
saved my twenty cents; for this kind of economy is 



LETTER TWENTY-NINE. 277 

quite fashionable with English and American travelers 
abroad; but I thought it was worth that much sacrifice 
to hear a good sermon, to say nothing of the effect 
which Protestant neglect of the Lord's Day must have 
upon observant Catholics. 

The Pitti Palace is so named from its founder Luca 
Pitti, who designed it to rival in magnificence the 
homes of the Strozzi and Medici. That was in 1441 ; 
but one hundred years later found it still unfinished, 
and the proud family of the Pitti too poor to retain it 
longer in their possession. Thus it came to pass that 
the despised Medici, against whom Luca had vainly 
conspired, became owners of his princely edifice; and 
from that time on it has been the abode ,of succes- 
sive Tuscan magnates; of the native Medici, so long as 
they remained in power ; of the Bonaparte Queen dur- 
ing her brief reign ; of the Austrian Grand Dukes till 
Italy became free from foreign rule ; and now, when 
Victor Emanuel pays a visit to his Florentine subjects, 
he hides himself away in its splendid rooms, not 
because he cares for the splendor, but because he likes 
to hide. To be sure, to satisfy the people, he has to 
give them an occasional reception and play king ; but 
it is such a bore to him that he invariably nods in his 
chair before the evening is half over. 

Well, this palace in which Luca Pitti had to conceal 
his face because he was considered a traitor, and into 
which Victor Emanuel likes to retreat because he 
wants to be esteemed as a man, not as a king, is only 
one short square from No. 28, Via Maggio, where 



278 PITTI PALACE. 

I am just this minute shivering over a miserable Italian 
stove. That word "palace" has a very uncertain 
sound to an American ear; for with us a house is a 
house, whether it be one of those tiny vine clad affairs 
in which love is supposed to dwell, or an elegant brown 
stone front of which wealth claims the monopoly. At 
least, to me the word was always a kind of fairy, cre- 
ating such wonders for my imagination as no words can 
describe ; but I find the Pitti is a something decidedly 
matter-of-fact and substantial — why, if it were in 
America we'd call it a house ! From without, as viewed 
from the front, it presents the form of two immense 
symmetrical L's, so placed that the two long stems 
make a single line. Where the two L's meet is the 
arched entrance to the inner court ; and here a com- 
mon place Italian soldier, in his slouchy blue uniform 
always stands guard. This, together with the fact 
that the ten great oblong windows below, and the ten 
square ones a little higher up, are protected by a grat- 
ing of heavy cross-barred iron work, seems to indicate 
that the first story contains something worth seeing; 
but in Florence curiosity has little time to fret over 
the inaccessible. One row of windows, twenty-three 
in number, each surmounted by a Roman arch, furnish 
light to that part of the building to which strangers are 
admitted. Above the central portion rises still another 
story, to which only a terrace need be added in order 
to carry out the design of the great architect Brunel- 
leschi. Pausing only long enough to take in these 
characteristics of the imposing structurCj I hastened to 



LETTER TWENTY-NINE. 279 

the doorway under the left hand colonnade, and, 
directed by the narrow staircase, found my way to the 
suite of rooms fitted up for the reception of such mas- 
terpieces as money has been able to procure. 

One is quite tired enough to enjoy resting after 
climbing so many flights of steps, so I sank down upon 
the first seat which presented itself. It didn't happen 
to be be a hard stool though, but instead, a high- 
back arm chair, all gilt except the crimson velvet 
cushion, and it wasn't the easy-chair of the room, 
either, for more than a dozen mates to it sat invitingly 
around the walls. Beside me was a table of the far- 
famed Florentine mosaic, bordered with bands of lapis- 
lazuli, jasper, and various other stones unknown to 
me. So perfectly formed and tinted is every rose, 
fuschia, or lily in the central wreath, that one almost 
expects to perceive their fragrance ; so naturally is the 
humming-bird poised to sip their sweets, that one 
would feel little surprised should the timid things take 
flight at her approach. Opposite is another of these 
tables, and between the two windows to the riglit, a 
third, each bearing a vase of choice workmanship. In 
the center of the smooth, gray, marble-like floor is a 
statue of Victory, who is proudly tracing on her 
shield the names of Montebello and Palaestro. Long 
is the journey which the eye must make from the foot 
of Victory's pedestal to the center of the domed ceil- 
ing, and the amount of space it must then traverse in 
order to take in the design is more than I can say, for 
here I beo;an to be bewildered. This room is called 



280 SALOON OP JUPITER. 

the Saloon of Jupiter, and there, on the frescoed ceil- 
ing, is, represented the god with Juno, surrounded by 
the lesser divinities which are said to form their court. 
A heavily gilded frame seemingly supported at each 
corner by life size female figures, limits this pictured 
empire of Jove. Below this is a series of lunettes 
painted in brilliant frescoes and encircled by satyrs, 
nymphs, and cherubs. From these lunettes above to 
the tables below, the walls are hung with a soft, crim- 
son, silken drapery; 'but this is almost hidden by pre- 
cious bits of canvass, on which artists of the fifteenth, 
sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries have spent days 
of labor and nights of thought. 

I have described to you only one of these magnificent 
rooms : there are six along the front, and these open 
into a parallel suit, which, in turn, is joined by a nar- 
row corridor to a third, at right angles to it. Here 
are preserved over five hundred mementoes of the 
centuries in which art was brought to perfection and 
especially flourished. Side by side are the master, 
Periigino, and the more gifted pupil, Eaphael; the 
fervently religiously Bartollommeo, and the coldly 
correct Del Sarto. On one wall hangs a beautiful but 
fading remnant of Giorgione, opposite glow the warm 
tints of his successor, Titian ; a scene marvelous in its 
prodigality of sourceless sunlights, marks the unre- 
strained genius of Reubens; the faces of Charles I. 
and Henrietta calmly proclaim the refined taste of his 
rival Vandyke. The old race for the palm of master- 
painter seems kept up by Michael Angelo and Da 



LETTER TWENTY-NINE. 281 

Vinci, for each contributes a single specimen to this 
collection. As usual, Angelo has rather the best of 
it, for his subject is an ideal, while that of Da Yinci is 
a portrait. . It is the Three Fates, represented by three 
old toothless women, or rather by the same wrinkled 
creature under three different aspects. In one she holds 
the distaff, while her open mouth gives her a fixed ex_ 
pression of dread ; in the second she draws out the thread 
and twists it between her bony fingers, her mild face 
seeming only intent upon her work ; in the third she is 
eagerly waiting the permission to apply her ready 
shears to the slender thread. 

Unrivaled in his field, unique amidst the hosts of 
Madonnas, Holy Families, Magdalenes and Ascensions, 
appears Salvator Eosa in his wild landscapes, sea- 
pieces and battle-scenes. Claude Lorraine is not here, 
by his wonderful light, to throw Salvator into the 
shade; but in one piece the latter has given us a 
reminder of the great French artist. The scene is a 
harbor sheltered by a castle-guarded promontory on 
the left and extending into a limitless ocean in every 
other direction. Anchored near the shore are many 
ships, which almost seem to rock with the gentle undu- 
lations of the bright blue water ; sailors are busy on 
the beach towing in and making fast the boats ; but 
the most striking part is the distance. A vessel is just 
sailing into port, but the golden rays of the sun dis- 
solved in a rising mist gives it such a natural indis- 
tinctness, that one feels prompted to ask the " Captain 
for a peep through his glass." I might tell you of 



282 FLORENCE. 

Eosa's faults, too, as I have observed them in other 
pictures; but I didn't go to Pitti on Monday to spend 
my time on its inferior occupants. Mediocrity can be 
found anywhere, so when I give a franc to the bank- 
rupt Italian government, I take the liberty of choosing 
in return the best things in her treasury. 

If one wants to worship the Virgin, there is much 
room for exercise of taste in the Pitti. Now, in Dres- 
den, wander as you may through the Z winger's many 
rooms, you are irresistibly drawn to the little sanctum 
in the far corner for one more glance at the trans- 
cendant loveliness of the Sistine Madonna ; but in no 
other instance has Raphael raised his conception so far 
above the earth. The Madonna della Sedia is only a 
beautiful woman, a fond mother tenderly clasping the 
infant in her arms; one may turn from it to look 
with pleasure upon the next group by Del Sarto. 
Indeed, it would not be presumption to consider the 
round, immature face in the latter as more like that of 
the simple Jewish Mary ; the careless, abstracted man- 
ner in which she sustains the infant on her knee seems 
the natural outgrowth of her ignorance in regard to his 
divine character. 

But, really, while I was comparing these two 
Madonnas I caught a glimpse of a pair of bright eyes 
watching me from an adjacent corner. A pair of rosy 
cheeks, a pair of kiss-inviting lips, a dimpled chin, and 
two chubby little hands, accompanied these eyes, and 
ten little pink toes were peeping out from beneath the 
embroidered quilt of the tiny bed on which lay 



LETTER THIRTY. 283 

this baby Medici; for it was one of this notoriously 
wicked family whose infantine attractions had drawn 
me from Del Sarto's Madonna. Yes, he is a prince in 
whose veins flowed the same blood which seems warm- 
ing into life the coarse features of Leo X. as transfer- 
red to canvas by the brush of Eaphael. Can it be 
possible that this stubborn opponent of Luther, this 
artful granter of indulgences, was once such a kitten- 
like baby Medici, into whose innocent eyes one might 
delight to look? Well, well, I can't believe that all 
the seeds of depravity, which bore such abundant 
fruits in the after lives of this infamous family, were 
already sown in the hearts of such laughing bits of 
infantine humanity. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER XXX. 



Florence, December 19, 1875. 
Dear Brother South: 

FIND myself to-day indebted to you for three 
letters, all received since writing my last. One of 
them should have reached me much sooner, but was 
probably delayed by ocean storms. You ask about 
Vachel. Have I not told you that he is in Vienna 
doing extremely well? In fact, I fear he is doing too 



284 FLORENCE. 

well; I fear that the end of his course will find him 
broken down with over study. He says, however, 
there is no danger of such a result. He is very eagerly 
pursuing his profession, for he finds many novelties in 
the German system of medicine. We had a letter 
from him this morning, and his present plan is to come 
to Italy about the first of March, go with us to Paris, 
there spend several weeks in the hospitals, then go to 
London. We expect to leave Florence on the 4th of 
January, not very far in the future now. We will go 
immediately to Rome, and for a month or six weeks 
make ourselves busy amid its old ruins. You express 
the hope that in " the land of song and beauty " my 
muse may become inspired. If you had been with me 
on the 8th of November you might have thought the 
circumstance sufficient to call forth a poetic burst of 
enthusiasm. It was in the evening, about half-past 
eight, when we left the house, and after winding about 
for awhile in the narrow streets, we suddenly emerged 
into the full moonlight. Its rays, coming from a sky 
in which only a few fleecy clouds floated i*n the far- 
away blue, fell upon the Arno, and transformed its 
muddy tide into gleaming silver — fell upon the queer 
old Ponte Vecchio, and changed its grotesque line of 
shops into a palace extending oyer the water — fell, 
too, upon the statue of good Demidoff, forming a 
glory round his head, and lighting up his benevolent 
face. 

This was just beyond the Ponte Yecchio, where we 
first came into the moonlight. From there we con- 



LETTER THIRTY. 285 

tinued our walk some distance along the Acno, then, 
turning to the right, passed through the old gate of 
San Miniato, which opens the way up the hill to the 
fortress built by Michael Angelo. A long flight of 
stone steps renders the ascent easy, and, ever and 
anon, we stopped to rest against the sturdy trunk of a 
towering cypress. A dark stately array of these mag- 
nificent trees bounds the path on one side and on the 
other appear in strong contrast the light boughs and 
delicate leaves of the olive. There were six of us : a 
sweet little woman named Madam Runge, an English 
lady, whose husband was a German, her son, an inter- 
esting, well-educated youth of nineteen; the two 
Misses Frodshams, Julia and Ede, two unassuming 
English girls. The others kept turning round and 
uttering expressions of delight, as they began to see 
the city in the moonlight ; but I firmly resisted every 
temptation to look backward till I was quite at the 
top — at the foot of the bronze "David," which 
stands at the center of the Piazza of Michael Angelo. 
This piazza was constructed only this year, the fourth 
centennial of Angelo' s birth. The top, or rather side, 
of the hill has been leveled down, made substantial by 
walls of stone, and then neatly graveled. It is on the 
northeast side of the city, overlooks its whole extent, 
and also takes in the surrounding mountains. We 
walked quite around the grand statute, his dark pro- 
portions standing out clearly in the white light. The 
tall spires of the Palazzo Vecchio,the old palace where 
the rulers of the Eepublic were wont to meet; the 



286 AN INCIDENT. 

great dome of the Cathedral, the highest and largest in 
the world; the graceful outline of the Campanile, 
proof of Giotto's genius ; the white fagade of Santa 
Croce, — all marked for us familiar spots, piazzas to 
which our feet are often turned. To say, as almost any 
American girl would do, " It is perfectly lovely," would 
be a very inadequate way of putting it. Had there then 
been no other demand for my time, I might have writ- 
ten your poem; but this thing of taking care of one's 
self, of keeping one's accounts, of learning to converse 
in a strange tongue with strange people, is too intensely 
practical to leave much room for the sentimental. 
When I get somebody to take care of me, and can find 
leisure for dreaming, perhaps then my muse will be- 
friend me, and give you delight. I make no promise, 
however. I intend always to use my powers of mind 
in that way which I think most conducive to good. 
Just now, I have quite fallen in love with prose ; it is a 
pleasure to write my letters to Brother Graham ; I like 
to take a great, comprehensive subject, and reduce it 
to the compass of twelve of these pages. 

But I was going to tell you a little incident which 
Madam Runge related that night as we were retiring. 
She has spent several years of her life in the West 
Indies, and our moonlight walk recalled to her the 
scenes of those days; for, in these isles, the heat at 
noon is so intense that one can only sleep, and then at 
night they take advantage of the milder rays of the 
moon. She was reminded of the friends with whom 



LETTER THIRTY. 287 

those hours were spent, and turning to me andKate, 
she said : — 

"I can tell you something that will interest you. 
In Havana I knew an American lady who was gov- 
erness in a wealthy family. A man who was employed 
as chief servant on the sugar plantation fell in love 
with her. She knew he was an Italian exiled for 
some political reason from his native land; but further 
than this she knew not. She accepted him as he was, 
and they were married. A few years passed ; changes 
came for Italy ; Victor Emanuel's power became estab- 
lished; and this man, the servant whom she had mar- 
ried, was recalled from exile, and they now live in 
Milan in the style befitting the rank of a count. So 
you see," continued Madam R., "by marrying for 
love, she also acquired position." 

I give you this little story, not so much for its 
intrinsic merit as for the insight it gives into Madam's 
character. She is a woman of forty-five, I suppose, 
but in spirit she is a mere girl, in full sympathy with 
the romantic. She is always giving some such tender 
episode. She has now gone to Eome, where we hope 
to meet her again. 

Since my last writing there have been several changes 
in our pension. At this very minute there sits within 
reach of my hand a young Italian with the black eyes, 
black hair, dark skin, and other physical traits peculiar 
to his race. He has been here several days, but I 
have had little time to talk with him. He is of rather 



288 " THE COUNT." 

metaphysical turn of mind ; is also a geologist ; speaks 
English, German, French, — all fluently; has been in 
England, Germany, France, Austria, and other Euro- 
pean countries. He has returned home with the full 
conviction that Italy is the best place, after all; that 
of crimes she is indeed often guilty, but only of such 
crimes as rise from heated blood. He is quite shocked 
with the cold-blooded murders of which England is 
capable. Indeed, he considers England far too ma- 
terialistic, anyway. He thinks it would be a universal 
calamity for England's influence to become predom- 
inant. He thinks the half -starved, half-clad Italian, 
who, 'mid dirt and discomfort, transfers to canvas or 
to marble block the ideal beauty of his soul, is a far 
higher type of humanity than is the beef-eating, well- 
clothed, comfortably-housed Englishman. 

He is a little inclined to air his learning, a habit 
probably acquired from association with what he 
chooses to term " those conceited Englishmen." I 
don't know his name, but the other day he was before 
the mirror, and casting upon the reflected image rather 
admiring glances, when an Irish clergyman said: — 

*' You ought to be a marquis." 

"A marquis!" said he; "a marquis, instead of 
what?" 

" Oh, I don't know," said the Irishman, " I thought 
a marquis was something grand." 

"Something grand!" said the Italian contemptu- 
ously, " do you think a marquis is better than a 
count?'' 



LETTER THIRTY. 289 

This is either an implied falsehood, or else he is the 
owner of this rather uncertain title. I say uncertain, 
because such titles are often the only possession of 
the Italian nobility. The Irishman, who, by the way, 
is a clergyman, with curly, mouse-colored hair, parted 
in the middle, is something of a wit, and likes to take 
the "count" down when he gets into one of his 
boastful spells. To-night he said : — 

" I'll tell you, ladies, what are the gentleman's hob- 
bies : the resuscitation of the spirit which has once 
lived in the artists snd saints of by-gone Italian 
days; and, secondly, the construction of balloons. 
He thinks the only way to resist the influence of this 
lower world is to rise above — it in a balloon, if no 
other way." 

So much for the Irishman and the Count. 

There is still another couple I must mention, — a 
young Roumanian. (Roumania is a country near Hun- 
gary) and his bride. Neither of them can speak 
English, and he was overjoyed to find me able to 
understand German. He began * talking about his 
journey from home to Venice, of his stay in Yenice* 
and its suburbs, and added: — 

*' When one has company, one can enjoy sight- 
seeing, one can be happy anywhere, even in a forest. 
I have felt quite alone many a time in a large city ; 
but now" — and his face took on an expression of 
iadescribable joy and pride — "I am making my 
bridal tour." 

19 



290 FLORENCE. 

I was much amused at the apparent satisfaction with 
which he saw I understood what he said. His bride 
is a mere child ; he is seemingly very delicate and a 
little lame; but they are supremely happy. They 
leave us to-morrow, and I am sorry, for not often can 
I practice my German as I have with him. 

There is also an Australian couple with whom we 
have been entertained. He calls her " dear," she calls 
him ditto; she coughs, he looks wonderfully sympa- 
thetic ; she isn't able to come to breakfast, he car- 
ries her coffee to her with his own hand. From all 
these signs, although somewhat advanced in years, it 
became the opinion that they were spending their hon- 
eymoon. It has come out, however, that they have 
been married twenty years, and he is a living proof 
that a man can be gallant to his wife even twenty years 
from his wedding-day. 

Doubtless you're tired of this gossip, and I am tired 
of writing. I have something else to tell yon, though, 
which I had quite forgotten. Do you remember that 
picture of Veronica which we saw at the Cincinnati 
Exposition? A woman gazing on the face of her dead 
rival? You remember the severed head, as it lay on 
the table before her, and the look of horror on her 
face? Well, that scene was borrowed from an inci- 
dent in Florentine history. The murdered woman was 
the wife of one Jacobo Salviata, her name was Cater- 
ina, and she was equally noted for her beauty and 
her virtue. Duke of San Giuliauo was the husband 



LETTER THIRTY. 291 

of Veronica, and he greatly admired Caterina. Ex- 
cited by jealousy, Veronica induced the step-son of 
Caterina to cut off her head. 

Kate says, I really must stop . I don't know whether 
you will call this a love-letter or not ; but my defini- 
tion of a love-letter is one dictated by a heart full of 
affection for the one addressed, and, in this sense, I 
write you no other kind. But, you say, you wish me 
to express in some way the measure of my love. I 
don't know how. I am somewhat versed in mathe- 
matics, but this is a quantity which I know not how to 
estimate. If it, were arithmetical, I could tell it in 
numbers ; if it were algebraic, I could find its value, 
though it might require some elimination and substitu- 
tion — oh I now I have it! It is geometrical, and I 
can demonstrate it. I like .best, too, the indirect 
method of proof, so that the conclusion comes in as a 
kind of surprise. Address me in care of American 
Consul, Rome, and I'll tell you more about it next 
time. 

EUDORA. 



292 



LE TTER 

Florence, December 26, 1875. 
Dear Sister Mora: 

^NOTHER two weeks have gone by, and although 
they have brought me no letter to answer, I 
will prepare a few pages for to-morrow's mail. If 
you have written as often as I have, many of the letters 
have failed to reach me. It is often four weeks from 
one to the next, so I have ceased to expect one at any 
certain time. Yesterday was Christmas Day and the 
weather was most mild and lovely. I intend to write 
to President Graham how we spent that day and the 
preceding evening; so I will write to you on some other 
theme. I'll entertain you a little while with the way 
in which I spent Thursday morning, December 23d. 

On Tuesday we received an addition to the occu- 
pants of our pension in the shape of a Virginia lady . 
Her name is Anne Shaw — not Anna or Annie, but old 
English Anne, pronounced as if the "e" were not 
there. She says her mother used to have an intimate 
friend named Mary Cave ; she also knows the Virginia 
Lindsays and can trace their ancestry back to earls 
and counts of England. I am sorry I do not know 
more of the connecting links between myself and 
these Virginia Lindsays ; for Miss Shaw is anxious' to 



LETTER THIRTY-ONE. 293 

know. I told her last night that I was sorry, that, 
through my ignorance, my forefathers should lose the 
honor of such a descendant (?). She stopped in En- 
gland to visit the tombs of her ancestors. I asked her 
if she had also been to the Holy Land to weep over 
the tombs of our Grandfather Adam. She laughed, 
for she has read Mark Twain's " Innocents Abroad ; " 
but, the laugh being over, she was as seriously proud 
as ever of her " blue blood." And really, though I 
spoke of it lightly, I do not blame her; for it is cer- 
tainly an agreeable consciousness to know one's self the 
member of a family whose individuality has been 
marked through the ages. 

She is very dignified, and people generally think her 
cold; but she unbends a little when I get to talking 
with her, so I am getting over the shyness which she 
at first inspired. She is quite tall and slender, with 
large gray eyes, and fair, rosy complexion. Her hair 
is quite gray and this makes her appear prematurely 
old ; but I do not think she is more than twenty-five 
or thirty. She is a most independent personage, ex- 
ploring London, Paris, or any other city, entirely 
alone. She has been rather unfortunate, however; 
for, in Paris, she was ill two months, and in Geneva 
her trunk was stolen. It was a regular Saratoga, 
weighing with its contents two hundred pounds. She 
had a lawsuit with the railroad company by whom it 
was lost, and this detained her three months in that 
small, uninteresting city. About two weeks before her 
loss, there had been a law passed to the effect that a 



294 HOME OF ANGELO. 

railroad company should not be responsible for over 
$300 worth of baggage ; but so strong was her case, 
that a larger sum was granted her. She still mourns 
the loss, however, of some books among its contents ; 
for they were books once used by her father, whose 
memory she greatly reveres. 

Well, it was with this lady as a companion, that T 
went Thursday to visit the home of Michael Angelo. 
You may know that this painter, sculptor, poet, and 
architect lived a great many years ago (1475-1564) ; so 
you would expect his house to look very old ; but, in 
truth, it has been recently fitted up, till it has quite 
the air of a modern stone palace. Over the entrance, 
in a little niche, is a bust of the great man himself. 
It is a bronze copy of the marble bust on his tomb . 
He has very prominent cheekbones, a short upper lip 
which presses very firmly against the lower one, and a 
handsomely developed head. In spite of his greatness, 
he has rather a stern, forbidding look; and his beauty 
is further marred by a mashed nose. 

Entering, we found in the first room portraits of 
himself and several of the family — of his brothers, 
sisters, uncles, and such like, I mean; for he was never 
married. He never thought about falling in love till 
he was sixty-eight, and then the object of his affections, 
Vittoria Colonna, was a widow who could not admit to 
her heart any rival to her buried love. 

The next room is filled with sketches from which his 
pictures, statues, or architectural designs were devel- 



LETTER THIRTY-ONE. 295 

oped. These are drawn with pencil or crayon on com- 
mon card-board, or drawing paper. I recognized, 
among other things, the front of San Lorenzo, one of 
the largest churches in the city. 

The next room has on its walls and ceilings paintings 
illustrating the incidents of his life. First, he is, with 
hair still black and beard but slightly grown, standing 
before Julius II., Pope of Kome. The old man is 
making with him a contract for the building of his 
magnificent tomb You remember Julius began to feel 
superstitious about building his tomb during life, and 
Angelo betook himself back to his native Florence. 
It was only by extravagant promises that the Pope ever 
induced Angelo to return to Rome; and, at last, when 
the artist stood once more in his presence, Julius was 
overcome with anger, and reproved him sharply for 
having left unbidden. 

*'Do not be too hard on the poor fellow," inter- 
posed an ecclesiastic sitting by ; * ' Your Holiness must 
remember that aU of his class are coarse and unedu- 
cated." 

Now the fury of the Pope turned upon the meddling 
speaker. 

*«How dare you insult this man!" he exclaimed. 
"You are yourself uneducated; leave my presence 
this minute with your awkwardness." 

Then, as the Pope had expended his anger, he turned, 
graciously to Michael Angelo, and they were reconciled 
You see, in the person of Julius II. the holy papal 



296 SOME OLD SKETCHES. 

robes covered a very irate old man, and one who could 
brook no opposition to his will. This reflection was 
called up by the first picture. 

In the second scene, ambassadors from Constantino- 
ple approach him, and insist that he shall come to build 
for their Sultan a great bridge. The dark faces of 
the Turks make an effective contrast with their bright 
turbans. Angelo declines the tempting offer of the 
Sultan ; for he is too patriotic to leave his own country. 

In the third picture he is discussing with Leo X. 
the design of San Lorenzo, the very one of which I 
have spoken. Leo was the new Pope who came next 
to Julius II., and Angelo lived to see his death and 
that of several of his successors. You see, Popes are 
always old men, so there must frequently be a new one 
chosen. Up to this time there have been altogether 
two hundred and fifty-six Popes. 

In still another picture Angelo is showing the model 
accordino: to which he intends to build St. Peter's. 
You remember Mark Twain's description of this im- 
mense Roman structure. Well, it was the great 
Michael Angelo who directed its building. You mustn't 
suppose, however, that he was an ordinary stone ma- 
son; what he did was to direct the workmen, and none 
but a marvelous genius could ever have conceived the 
plan. All the distinguished artists of former times 
were architects as well as painters. 

There were several other rooms ; but their contents, 
though interesting to examine, can not well be de- 
scribed. Besides there is so much talking in the room 



LETTER THIRTY- ONE. 297 

it is impossible to concentrate my thoughts. The sub- 
ject under discussion is Mrs. Jennings, manager of the 
pension, her servants, and the washerwoman. Mrs. 
Frodsham and her four daughters, it seems, have 
rooms adjoining that of Mrs. Jennings. Mrs. J. has a 
piano in her room, and to help eke out her income she 
had given Miss Latimer, for a few francs, the privi- 
lege of practicing on this instrument. Mrs. F. com- 
plained to Mrs. J. that this playing made her 
nervous and asked that it might be discontinued. 
Again, next day, the meditations of Mrs. F. and her 
daughters were disturbed by the same harassing sounds. 
Quite cooly she went to Mrs. J. and said : — 

" I shall not complain again; let the practicing con- 
tinue — we'll find another boarding-house." 

Poor Mrs. J. is an excitable creature, so she flew 
into a passion and said some ugly things ; but she de- 
pends for a living upon the amount received from 
boarders, and she knew this would not do. She sub- 
dued her spirit for the sake of needed gain ; granted 
the request of these five people ; meets them now with 
smiling face, and strives to yield to all their demands. 
This is what I have learned from the remarks around 
the room this evening. 

"Very uninteresting," say you? 

So I thought, but there is a lesson in it. I know 
now something of the trials which must be endured by 
the keeper of a pension, and I shall try always to be 
as little trouble as possible, that I may not increase 
their burdens. 



298 A NOISY CHAT. 

But there has also been a long list of grievances 
committed by the washerwoman. She doesn't make 
collars and cuffs stiff enough ; she doesn't take all the 
dirt out; she is dearer than those in Paris; etc., etc. 
I have the same woman, think she is very cheap, don't 
know how she lives at such a rate, my clothes are gen- 
erally satisfactory. A slight difference of opinion, 
you see. I think some people consider it a proof of 
their gentility to complain of everything that is done 
for them when they are away from home. 

It amuses me to see the dignified silence with which 
the Virginian endures this noisy chit-chat. She too 
has been writiug, but just now she sits before the 
stove, perfectly erect, and almost contemptuous. The 
weather is now the topic. 

" Compared with England," says Miss Julia F., 
" this climate is perfectly blissful." 

The truth is, we have had some very disagreeable 
days, rainy and chilly, with some frost on clear nights ; 
but the snow has approached no nearer than the heights 
of the Apennines, and now it is as mild and clear as 
May-time. A fire is quite comfortable in the house; 
for it is colder within than without the thick walls of 
these Florentine palaces. 

We're going to Rome next week ; at least, that is 
our present intention. We intend to leave one trunk 
here during our stay in Eome and Naples. We are 
tired of taking care of two, and think the one left will 
be safer here. There is a special attraction to draw us 
to Naples now, Vesuvius is in a state of eruption, just 



LETTER THIRTY-TWO. 299 

enough to be interesting without being dangerous. "We 
can better imagine the destruction of Pompeii if we 
see the volcano still smoking above its ruins. We still 
have much to see and learn, and the five or six re- 
maining months will soon slip by. Kate has almost 
finished a beautiful painting copied from one of Sal- 
vator Rosa's noted landscapes. It has in it dark 
mountains, a bit of water lit by a sunset glow, and 
some bandits in the foreground. Kate's health has 
not been good enough to admit of her studying as I 
have done ; but this exquisite souvenir of Italy will 
largely compensate her for patiently restraining her 
desire to prosecute some regular study. Hoping you 
may some day see this picture, and many other lesser 
mementoes of our travels, I am 

Your sister, 

EUDOEA. 



LETTER XXXII. 



Florence, Italy, December, 28, 1875. 

Dear Bro. Graham : 

^ORthe last time I address you under the old, famil- 
iar date of 1875. The old year has brought me 
more than one longed-for joy, I only hope the new may 
b e as gracious . Since my first acquaintance with Ho cker 



300 CHRISTMAS IN ITALY. 

College, the words " Christmas " and *' Home " have 
been so inseparably connected in my mind, that the 
former seemed as nothing when robbed of its associations 
with the latter, but the 25th of December will come, 
though one be removed by leagues of ocean and miles of 
land f roin the beloved hearthstone. We didn't hang up 
our stockings Christmas eve, for these little earthenware 
stoves give no hint of so much as a narrow flue down which 
a respectably-laden Santa Claus might force his sooty 
way. Indeed, the first reminder that this was the sea- 
son for display of generosity and good will came from 
his most popular majesty, the postman; not that his 
letter-bag was unusually full of good news, bui this 
morning he presented his hat that we might pour into 
it a material proof of our appreciation of his services. 
Every girl commissioned months ago by some dress- 
maker to bring to the owner a tardily finished walking 
suit ; every boy induced to suspend his idleness or 
begging long enough to carry a bundle from the shop 
to your address ; every washerwomen who had done 
you the kindness to ruin all your best collars and cuffs, 
all remembered whom they had served, and called to 
claim a Christmas gift. Nina as she polished the mir- 
ror, Garibaldo as he filled our pitcher with fresh water, 
Adriano as he poured out our morning coffee — in fact, 
every servant about the house looked at us with hun- 
gry, expectant eyes. I can not say that we felt alto- 
gether comfortable under these glances, for two or 
three francs each to these many applicants must 
make a sensible impression upon already none-too- 



LETTER THIRTY-TWO. 301 

tightly-packed purses. Seriously, I think one of the 
first steps towards elevating these people must be to 
teach them a little independence, to teach them that it 
is beneath the dignity of a man to receive something 
for nothing. 

There is a little Waldensian who comes to the house 
every day to give lessons in Italian. From him we 
learned that on the evening of the 24th there would be 
given a Christmas tree to those school children of 
whom I have spoken in a previous letter. We deter- 
mined to go to witness the grateful joy of the little 
ones. We entered the court of the palace, and turned 
to the chapel on the right, but we found all dark there. 

" Up stairs, ladies," said a gentleman noticing our 
perplexity. 

From the landing we passed to the door of the 
large hall for theological students, but from the dimness 
of the light we inferred that we were again mistaken. 
Again some one took us in charge, and we were shortly 
after ushered into a bright parlor. We were greeted 
by a genial-faced lady who, taking the hand of the 
foremost of the party, inquired : — 

"Are these the Misses ? " 

This revealed the fact that we were intruding where 
only invited guests were expected, but our apologies 
were so cordially accepted that our embarrassment 
soon wore away. The chairs around the walls were well 
nigh all occupied by friends and patrons of the school; 
the gentleman of the house we recognized as one of 
the professors of the theological department. The 



302 A, CHRISTMAS TREE. 

flag of Italy adorned one side of the room, opposite 
hung that of Florence, but in the center was the chief 
attraction. The dark boughs of the Christmas tree 
were laden with the usual variety of fruits; gilded 
nuts, silvered pine cones, perforated ginger snaps, 
dolls undergoing capital punishment, and such like. I 
missed, however, the white festoons of pop-corn, for 
of this luxury the Italian children seem ignorant. 
The hundreds of tiny wax candles were scarcely lighted 
when the sound of singing from the farther end of the 
hall was followed by the appearance of the young Wal- 
densian host led by a gallant standard bearer. First 
came the girl*, who stationed themselves in orderly 
array on the opposite side of the room, while the boys 
stood next to us. They were sturdy little fellows, 
with hair newly trimmed, and faces quite aglow with 
cleanliness. Their gray, homespun suits, they were 
wearing for the first time ; but already they began to 
feel at home in them, for their hands were hidden in the 
depths of their pockets. I was expecting the sight of 
the Christmas tree to cause some of them to forget 
their song, but not so ; each one seemed earnestly in- 
tent upon making his voice most distinctly heard. I 
never saw children wear so solemn an aspect, perhaps 
they had never learned to be happy. After the song 
ensued a brief silence which was broken by a clear, 
ringing, childish voice, and peering through the 
branches of the intervening pine I saw the slight form 
and graceful gestures of the same little girl whose 
copy-book was shown us on our previous visit. She 



LETTER THIRTY-TWO. 303 

was talking of the goodness of God, and two of her 
schoolmates soon joined her in an animated dialogue. 
This introduction was followed by a declamation from 
the boy who had to be prompted, by a brave address 
from Master Four-year-old, whose red cheeks and 
style of eloquence reminded me of Master Eobert 
McUarvey; by other dialogues alternating with 
Christmas songs, till I began to feel impatient 
to see the distribution of presents. At last two 
little girls made their way across the room and 
stopped in front of our hostess. It needed no inter- 
preter to translate the meaning of the soft, sweet 
words which fell from their lips ; in their dark brown 
eyes shone the deep gratitude and love which they 
were trying to express They made an offering of 
flowers to their kind benefactress, and in return she 
imprinted a warm kiss on each glowing cheek. This 
was the signal for their fun to begin, and every face 
began to brighten a little, even suppressed tittering 
could be heard from several quarters. " Naldo 
Greco," called out a man who had mounted a chair 
where he could be better seen, Naldo came forward 
and received a package of clothing, a treat of oranges, 
apples and cakes, and a few of the gilded nuts. 
*' Italia Cornielli, Adolpho Michelozzi," and many 
another high sounding musical name was called with 
the same result. "We did not wait to see the last limb 
stripped of its joy-inspiring fruit, for Mrs. Jennings 
had enjoined upon us to return to her drawing-room 
by nine o'clock. What might be her reason for wish- 



304 WATCH NIGHT. 

ing our presence we didn't know, but we were not left 
long to the necessity of guessing. 

* 'A merry Christmas and a happy ISfew Year I ' ' 
exclaimed Mrs. J., throwing the door open, and to 
prove the sincerity of her wish, Adriana appeared 
bearing an immense waiter of good things. This re- 
freshment was not superfluous, for we had determined 
to keep watch till midnight. 

At a quarter till eleven, quite a party of us started 
to the St. Annunziata, and guided by the light of the 
stars found our way to this old church, which has for 
five centuries been the favorite place for celebrating 
the Nativity. We had peeped in at a side door of the 
great Cathedral as we were passing, but its somberness 
was too chilling to make more than a minute's stay en- 
durable. To be sure there were lighted candles on its 
few altars, but their struggling rays were quite over- 
come in the attempt to dispel the darkness of the vast 
area. A similar obscurity veiled the frescoed walls of 
the vestibule at Annunziata; but to-night there was 
opportunity to study artists more wonderful than 
Andrea del Sarto. To-night the mystic picture painted 
long ago by the angels, would be open to the gaze of 
reverence or curiosity. With this thought we pushed 
aside the heavy screen and stood beside this very altar. 
Numberless tapers cast their soft radiance over the face 
of the Holy Mother ; but what has become of her wor- 
shipers? We had expected a crowd of awed, beseech- 
ing faces around this sacred shrine, but not so. 
Perhaps they have ceased to believe that angels would 



LETTEE THIETY-TWO. 305 

produce a work so far inferior to what man has done. 
The church was fast- filling, but we pushed through 
the crowd till we stood near the steps ascending to the 
choir. Already a solitary priest was chanting behind 
the scene, and by the time we were packed in so tight 
that no one could move without exciting a sympathetic 
wave throughout the assembly, the organ began to 
make its notes heard. Then came the procession of 
priests with their candlesticks of heavy silver, which 
they arranged on each side of the high altar, where they 
themselves remained standing. They were old men 
with hair as white as their tonsured crowns, mark of 
their consecration. They should have appeared devo- 
tional, but they seemed more interested in the mixed 
congregation than in the approaching mass. The one 
whose duty it was to elevate the host stood at waiting; 
everything was in readiness for the anticipated cere- 
monies, when the clock struck twelve. At the first 
stroke, there was removed, as if by magic, the cover- 
ing of a little silver shrine above the center of the high 
altar. There were numbers of Italians all around us, 
and we expected to see them kneel and bow their heads 
in common with the priests at the revelation of this 
mystery, but instead, an instantaneous laugh of ridicule 
pervaded the whole house — not loud, for there were 
some half dozen police present to prevent any inter- 
ference with the ceremonies. The ridicule was surely 
justifiable, for the occupants of the silver shrine were 
two great wax dolls, the larger holding the infant in 
her arms. Instead of hay their bed was of flowers, 

20 



306 A SUPERSTITIOUS CUSTOM. 

and the pink dress of the babe had quite a modern air 
The music was not sufficiently attractive to detain us 
within sight of these mummeries. We had staid long 
enough to see that Italians themselves have learned to 
throw off belief in the superstitious customs of their 
ancestors, which we had never before so fully realized. 
The time has come when this people refuses to be led 
blindly; when faith comes to them again, it must be 
with reason, as its support. 

EUDORA, 



LETTER XXXm. 



Florence, January 2, 1876. 
Dear Brother South: 

f THANK you most sincerely for sending me such 
_ ' desira/ble Christmas and New Year's gifts. On last 
Saturday I went to church, and did not return till 
noon ; and all the way home I had been thinking of 
you, wondering if you were preaching that day, and 
wishing that I might hear your voice either in public 
or private discourse. I felt my wish half realized, 
when I found upon my table a white envelope with the 
Frankfort post-mark, especially as I saw the envelope 
was well filled. Again yesterday a similar experience 
was repeated. I am glad you accepted mother's invi- 



LETTER THIRTY-THEEE. 307 

tation to spend Christmas with her, as she would have 
been lonely without some company to keep her from 
missing me and Vachel too much. I know she enjoyed 
the chestnuts you got for her in the mountains. This 
nut grows abundantly in Italy ; but it is a larger 
species, not fit to eat without cooking. We have them 
roasted to eat with butter about twice a week for lunch. 
The poor peasants live almost entirely upon them, 
making from them a kind of meal which they convert 
into bread. 

Both of your letters abound in questions which I will 
proceed to answer. You inquire about my teaching 
next year. I have written to an educational bureau, 
to aid me in securing a place, and where they may see 
fit to place me, I can not guess. It is, however, nec- 
essary that I should teach ; moreover, I think another 
year of this invaluable discipline would give more 
maturity to my mental faculties. I should like to begin 
as soon as expedient to teach you German ; but I am 
sure you could not afford to pay for my services as 
much as my circumstances would demand. I do not 
doubt, that in your impatience to begin, you feel able 
and willing to meet all demands ; but since you can 
not see the imprudence of such a course, I must see 
for you, and forbid your taking such responsibilities 
upon yourself. You see, should I become your 
teacher, there must be a certain outfit procured, which 
only money can purchase. When I come back to 
America, it will be with an empty purse, and my first 
pressing duty must be to replenish it by the work of 



308 FORETHOUGHT. 

my hands or mind. Perhaps you would willingly 
advance my whole year's salary? Yes, but I should 
consider it improper to accept such an offer — not only 
improper, but absolutely wrong. You must remember, 
when you have once engaged me as teacher, you must 
retain my services for life, and each year you must 
give me respectable support. Should you pay me too 
much the first year, you might find it more difficult to 
furnish the requisite sum in subsequent years. You 
could never be content, if you had to make me put up 
with too meager a support; the thought of your 
inability to do more would trouble you : and if your 
mind were thus disturbed, how could you preach? 
Now, don't think I am producing these arguments, for 
the sake of having you reduce them to fallacies ; I am 
very much in earnest, because I know my own pecun- 
iary circumstances, and know no way to better them 
except by a year's work. So much on the subject of 
teaching. Perhaps you will think me unkind; I 
assure you it is not so intended. After the year's 
teaching, I should like six months at home, by which 
time I should be a little past twenty-five. Am I dis- 
appointing you? I would not cause you a moment's 
pain, if I did not think by so doing I may save us both 
from what might be a life-time of anxiety as to our 
worldly affairs. If you think I am wrong in thus look- 
ing out for the morrow, prove it to me by scriptural 
arguments. I believe Providence takes care of the 
sparrow ; but the tiny bird would wait long for her 
nest if she did not use her measure of forethought in 



LETTER THIRTY-THREE. 309 

collecting the necessary materials, and putting them 
properly together. The lilies are beautifully arrayed 
without spinning, but that is because they do not know 
how to spin. 

Now that your letter is answered, I will tell you how 
we spent the last afternoon of the " Old Year'* At 
ten minutes to two, Kate, Miss Shaw, and myself 
repaired to the narrow Piazza del Olio, from which a 
certin omnibus was to start at two. In order to reach 
this piazza, we went to the Baptistery and turning 
to the left, passed under an arch which formed the en- 
trance to one of the markets. It was a busy scene 
through which we had to pass. An old woman on one 
side was frying polenta, or mush, the only article of 
food they make from Indian corn; opposite, a man 
with equal industry, stirred his roasting chestnuts ; a 
wheelbarrow laden with cauliflowers, potatoes, onions, 
and various unknown vegetables, hemmed in the way; 
white muttons with one beheaded, but unskinned, 
black lamb, hung in ghastly array fron a rude pole 
supported by two forks. At each stall, buyers were 
making noisy bargains with sellers ; but we didn't take 
time to translate their chatterinaj. 

Out on the piazza we found our "bus'* not yet 
ready to start, so Miss S. ran back to buy ten centimes^ 
worth of chestnuts. We got into the vehicle, and 
dreaded every minute lest the driver should crack his 
whip and leave our friend ; but our anxiety was use- 
less, for she returned with a paper of warm nuts, we 
leisurely ate the last one, and still he didn't start. 



310 A TRIP TO FIESOLE. 

We were quite impatient at his delay, especially as his 
object seemed to be to crowd us in as much as possible. 
I was already bounded on the west by an old, tooth- 
less, sallow-faced, turbaned contadina, who had a little 
porcelaine basket (scaldino they call them), filled with 
coals, and I was afraid she would spill the fire on my best 
dress ; on the north, I was in as intimate contact with 
an old man, whose enormous red nose seemed set as- a 
guard over his thin white mustache — and yet the 
driver waited until there was no longer an inch of room 
in which to stow away another such specimen. Two 
mischievous-eyed urchins took possession of the back 
step, and for two squares retained it in easy security, 
when the driver suddenly flourished his whip in such 
a way as to wrap it around their legs. They jumped 
down each with an angry frown on his brow ; but, 
when they heard us laughing, with the easy good 
nature of Italians, they joined in our merriment. 

At a rapid pace we trotted along the Via San Gallo, 
and paused before the old gate to gain more recruits 
for the top of the vehicle. This gave us time to 
observe a triumphal arch to Grand Duke Francis II., 
which is built of stone and ornamented with statuary. 
Crack went the whip again, and off we drove to the 
right by the Via Quercia — at least the guide-book 
said that was its name, but I saw no oak trees to 
justify the title. From this we turned to the left, and 
began to climb the hill ; but the high garden walls on 
either side quite shut out the view. At one point, 
however, a long three-story building took the place of 



LETTER THIRTY-THREE. 311 

the wall, and this the man with the nose and mustache 
said was a college. Still further on, some Christian 
has torn away the wall on the left, and put in its 
place an open iron fence, which does not obstruct the 
view. This was fortunate, for the road here overlooks 
the green valley of the Mugnone, a tributary to the 
Arno, and down in this very valley is a villa surrounded 
by tall cypress trees, and gleaming in the sunlight. 
But the interest of this villa is borrowed from some- 
thing more than intrinsic beauty — it is derived from 
association with Boccaccio's pen. It is the Villa Pal- 
mieri, the scene of his " Decamerona," which is the 
phototype of Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales," and of 
Longfellow's " Tales of the Wayside Inn." Only an 
instant did we see it, when the monotony of stone 
walls again tore it from our view. 

At about half past two our omnibus halted at San 
Dominico, half way to Fiesole. This is the place 
where Fra Ansrelico lived before he was called to take 
up his abode at San Marco. We shook the door of his 
old church, but it wouldn't yield, so we failed to see the 
angels hidden by its antiquated walls. From here we 
had to walk, and immediately we were beset by a blind 
beggar. We resisted his appeal, and it was well we 
did ; for we had not lost sight of him before a tattered 
coat and hat appeared around the next corner. Off 
came the greasy hat, and off went the tongue in a 
mechanical string of afflictions. There was no need, 
however, to spend all our loose change on him, for on 
came another not twenty yards behind. Some of 



312 THE OLD CATHEDRAL. 

them were comfortably clad, and one had a full bag on 
his back, so I do not think begging was his regular 
business. He just thought he would make a mite off 
of a stranger, if possible. 

At last we stood before the old Cathedral of Fiesole, 
but we were yet pursued. The one occupation of this 
people is plaiting straw, and a whole swarm of women 
surrounded us with aprons full of their work. Pretty 
little baskets and airy little fans they stuck in our 
faces, praising their beauty and cheapness. It was 
useless to tell them we wanted no such articles; we 
got rid of them only by entering the Cathedral. 

Fiesole is an old Etruscan city of eleven thousand 
inhabitants. It was founded long before Florence, 
and till 1010 was its superior in strength. The Cathe- 
dral was founded in 1028, and has been little changed. 
Like San Miniato, its choir is raised above the nave, 
and below it is a place of burial. There is a tomb of 
a bishop, and an altar piece in marble relief on the 
right of the choir, and a terra cotta image of St. Romu- 
lus over the door, but they are of no great artistic 
merit. 

From this place we went to look at the fragment of 
Etruscan wall, which is still preserved. So massive 
are the stones it must have taken ponderous battering- 
rams to shake them. To the top of the hill we were 
followed by the fan women, and as we tried to look at 
Florence far below, like a gem set in marble and 
emeralds, they stuck their wares before our eyes, thus 
shutting out the panorama. As another pest, an old 



LETTER THIRTY-THREE. 313 

hag came tottering to meet us, having in her hand an 
immense key. She wanted to show us the pagan 
antiquities — she looked as if she might be one her- 
self — she said they were in the little church of S. 
AUessandro, just in front of us, and of which she had 
the key. The fan women wouldn't let us enjoy the 
view. The guide-book said this church occupied the 
site of a heathen temple ; so we were duped into fol- 
lowing the old witch. As she was turning the key she 
pointed to a box-like, marble arrangement on the out- 
side of which was an altar formerly used in the service 
of Bacchus. This proved to be the only antiquity 
about the premises, and, as it was outside, we could 
have seen it quite as well without her help. It is 
true there were seven Ionic columns of cipollino sup- 
porting the arches of the nave, but she had led us to 
expect quite a museum of relics. We were sold, but 
not to any great amount, for we gave her only about 
one cent each — hardly enough to pay her for burden- 
ing her conscience with the falsehood. We had said 
^^Buon gioriio" (good day) to the women of straw, 
as we entered the church, and they had taken the hint 
and disappeared. But we were yet far from being 
alone. About twenty school-boys, with two young 
monks, their teachers, were covering the terrace, and 
their fun quite distracted my thoughts from the land- 
scape. 

Kate's field-glass, however, shut out these near 
objects, and I shall never forget the picture. Perhaps 
the view was not so beautiful as that from San Mini- 



314 A SUNSET SCENE. 

atxD, but its vast extent gave it more of grandeur. 
Florence is encircled by hills rising one behind the 
other, till seven rows may be counted. On the east, 
to our left, lay the mountains of the Casentino, glow- 
ing pink under the final glance of the sun ; to the right 
the heights of Monte Albano, with the white tops of 
Carrara rising behind them. (These last are the 
mountains from which sculptors obtain their favorite 
white marble.) The nearness of the sun to the hori- 
zon admonished us that we must be on our way back 
to the city. We were not half way down the hill when 
Ihe golden ball sank behind the opposite point. I shall 
never forget this sunset of the last day of 1875. There 
was not a cloud to catch the tints and make one of 
those gorgeous skies we so often see at home ; but the 
whole atmosphere seemed dissolved in rainbow hues. 
Every hill-top was etherealized by this wondrous light, 
till they themselves seemed a part of the sky. By 
feeble words I can never give you an idea of its soft 
beauty, not even a painter could do it. You should 
see it for yourself, as I hope you may some day. 

From looking at the sun we turned to the right, 
where a high wall fringed at the top with daisies 
tempted us to impatience. Miss Shaw was tall enough 
to reach these, and could hand us the tiny sun wor- 
shipers ; but who wants some one else to gather flowers 
for her when she can almost grasp them herself ? 
Luckily a broken place in the wall gave me a foothold, 
and by a desperate spring I gained a handful of the 



LETTER THIRTY-THREE. 315 

darling things. I send you one of these, together with 
a leaf from one of the thousands of olive trees which 
cover the hills and valley. Miss Shaw calls them Fra 
Angelico's daisies, for their ancestors served as models 
for those which appear in his foregrounds. 

The school-boys whom we had left on the hill soon 
ovartook us, and kept directly in front of us all the 
way to the college before mentioned. They seemed 
so fond of their jolly young monk teachers, so happy, 
so free from care, it gave me pleasure to look into 
their bright young faces ; but I wish they had teachers 
who could instruct them more wisely. 

It was quite dark when we reached the edge of the 
city, and we were not quite certain which way to turn. 
We asked a man where to find the Cathedral, and he 
said, " By Giotti's Tower." Of course, we knew this 
already, but we were quite as ignorant of its where- 
abouts as of that of the Cathedral. The man pointed 
straight ahead, though, so we kept on till we recog- 
nized the outline of the Triumphal Arch, by which we 
knew we were right. In the first piazza we took a 
carriage, said to the driver, " Via Maggio, venti otto " 
(twenty-eight), and soon after we were drinking tea in 
our room. 

I did intend to tell you of our excursion to Bello 
Sguardo on Christmas Day, but four sheets are quite 
as much as my envelope will hold. The view is not 
very different from that of Fiesole, except Florence is 
not so distant, and you are faced by Mount Morello on 



316 FLOKENCE. 

the north instead of the seven lines of southern hills. 
I have written this during conversations in which I 
have myself occasionally taken part, so you must not 
criticise. Eudora. 



LETTER XXXIY. 



Florence, January 9, 1876. 

Dear Elijah: 

OUE letter came a few days since, and as it is not 
often I have the privilege of responding to your 
written sentiments, I will do so without delay. I am 
glad to hear that my apphcation reached you in safety. 
I am anxious to secure a good situation for next year. 
You think it will be very hard for me to spend another 
year among strangers? You had thought I would try 
teaching next year on a different scale ? Oh I well, a 
year is not a very long time, after all. I lived through 
six months of the last amid the difficulties of an Illi- 
nois district school with very little congenial society ; 
half of the present period of separation is gone, leav- 
ing me well in body and improved in mind; if I find 
plenty of work to do, next year will be no longer. 
Should any answer to my application come to hand 
while I am yet abroad, send me immediately a copy of 
it — not the thing itself, lest it should be lost. 



LETTER TlilRTY-rOUK. 317 

You will, no doubt, be surprised to see that we are 
still in Florence. It was our intention to leave a week 
ago for Eome, but V. wrote us word we needn't be in 
a hurry. Besides, Kate had not yet quite finished her 
picture, and there were a few things of interest still 
un visited. It is now fixed that we are to start Tuesday 
morning. You needn't be uneasy about us on this 
journey, for we shall be only a day on the road, and 
we are to be well supplied with company. We 
selected from the guide-book the address of a house in 
Rome, wrote on, and engaged rooms; I told the Aus- 
tralian and his lady of the arrangement, whereupon 
they concluded to go to the same pension ; they spoke 
of it to " Chicago " and his wife, so we are all to go 
together. "Chicago" is an old gentleman whose 
real name is Dr. Carr; but, as he calls me "Ken- 
tucky,"- I have a right to name him from his city. He 
affords us all much amusement. He came here two 
weeks ago, and I happened to be sitting in the parlor 
when he first entered. 

" This is an American lady," said Mrs. J. 

" How are you, Ameriky ! " he exclaimed, coming 
forward and shaking hands as if I were an old friend. 
His wife greeted me more quietly, but no less cor- 
dially. Then the old Doctor began to tell me how 
homesick he was. 

" I can't speak a word of the language. I've been 
over here before, and finished every cathedral and 
picture gallery. I'm tired to death of churches with 
Madonnas, Holy Families, Saint Sebastians, and such 



318 "CHICAGO," 

like. I can see all I want of any palace or collection 
of paintings in five minutes, but my wife has a morbid 
appetite for such things. She took a notion she 
wanted to see the Pope this time; so I've brought her 
back to please her. These houses are so cold ; I'm out 
of all patience ! ' ' 

You see, now, what a state he is in. He is, no 
doubt, an active man at home, and skillful in his pro- 
fession ; but he knows nothing of art, and cares less. 
He is too old to form a taste for such things now ; so it 
is only a punishment for him to stay here. His wife, 
though a woman of sixty, takes great delight in them, 
and walks from one end of the city to the other in 
search of novelties. She says she has faithfully reared 
a large family of children (twelve in all), and she has 
earned the privilege of enjoying herself in her later 
years. They do not know how to save their money in 
traveling. To be sure, they have plenty of it, but 
they would not willfully waste it. For going to 
Fiesole they paid two dollars ; for the same trip we 
paid twenty cents. For seven dollars she bought a lit- 
tle locket of Florentine mosaic ; for six Kate bought 
one much handsomer. Every shopman, carriage 
driver, or porter, will cheat you, if he can; you must 
keep your eyes open and trust nobody. At home the 
Doctor is doubtless a shrewd manager, but here, he is 
a mere child. He is, however, very considerate of 
ladies, and would knock a fellow down if he were im- 
pudent to one under his charge, so we feel quite safe 
under his protection. I shall have to do all the talking 



LETTER THIRTY-FOUE. 319 

for the party though, for not one of them can speak 
French. 

This week has been a very busy one in the way of 
sight seeing, that is, since Monday, which was too bad 
for going out. You ask about the weather. We have 
had a good deal of rain, one or two days when the 
ground was slightly frozen, and finally a snow of two 
or three inches. We think this is quite naughty be- 
havior on the part of an Italian climate ; but it is indeed 
far better than we are used to. Since Dr. Carr has 
been with us, he keeps the stove always full of wood, 
and halloos at everybody passing in or out, " Shetthat 
door ! " so the parlor is quite comfortable. 

I want to tell you of some games with which we have 
entertained ourselves some evenings when we had the 
time to leave our rooms. One of these I will describe, 
as our English friends say it is an amusement they 
always allow their children oq Christmas night. They 
call it •' Snap-dragon." Being invited to participate, 
we assembled with the rest in the dining-room, which 
was quite dark. 

*' Stand around the table," said Miss Frodsham. 

We did so, and a second after a blue light darted up 
from its center. The light spread, till we could see the 
outline of a large white dish. 

" Snatch the raisins out ! " said Miss F. and setting 
the example, she thrust her hands among the flames, 
and filled her mouth with the still blazing sweetmeats. 

Of course they were only covered with brandy, to 
which a lighted match had been touched ; but it seemed 



320 CHRISTMAS GAMES. 

rather marvelous that they were not too hot to be 
eaten. When the dish was emptied, sombody poured 
in more brandy which made a great blaze again. 

" Look at your faces ! Look at your faces ! " cried 
Miss F. ; but, as we couldn't look at our own faces, 
each looked at his neighbor's and laughed outright. I 
never saw such a ghastly group, such was the effect of 
the light. But the merriment was interrupted by a 
shriek from Miss Skey. The dish had been tilted to 
one side, and there she stood seemingly enveloped in 
the burning liquid. An instant afterward it was 
smothered out ; but had her dress been anything but 
silk, she might have been seriously injured. I do not 
advise you to try this game ; I only describe it because 
they say it is an English custom. 

I can recommend to you a new edition of "Blind- 
fold," which they call " Post." The company is seated 
in a large circle around the room, while the " blind- 
man " stands in the middle. Each person, except the 
postman, assumes the name of some town or post- 
office. The postman takes the list of names, and 
directs the movements of the party. '* The mail 
passes between Glencoe and Londpn," says he, which 
obliges me to exchange places with my opposite 
neighbor, and as we cross the floor the blind man tries 
to catch us. He has only to touch one of us, when we 
must take his place. Once in a while the postman 
says, "General post!" when every one must find 
another seat. Try this sometime with a party' of 



LETTER THIETY-rOUE. 321 

young folks whose conversational powers seem to flag, 
and you will find it quite enlivening. 

Hitherto, I have told you only of my work; but this 
time my two sheets are filled with my play. It is very 
seldom that I spend time in this way; but I do not 
like to be unsocial, when a harmless recreation is pro- 
posed. Among such a number of persons there are 
always some whose time hangs heavy on their hands. 
These devised a new method of amusement one even- 
ing last week. Mrs. Carr happened to remark that 
she was a medium, and at once the " coffee pot woman " 
was wild to set the tables turning. I felt no desire to 
waste my time sitting with my hands on the table 
waiting for it to turn ; so I went for the Australian 
and his wife to complete the circle without me. They 
sat with their hands spread out till the table was 
encircled by a row of fingers in contact with each othffl:. 
Patiently they sat and waited, and their patience was 
rewarded ; for.after the expiration of an hour, the table 
began to turn, advancing at the same time around the 
room. We lookers-on said they were pushing, but 
when they all withdrew except one, and he kept it going 
with the tip of one finger, we had to believe. Mrs. 
Carr attributes this phenomenon to magnetism without 
any interference of the spirits. This is enough of such 
nonsense, so with the request that you write soon, I 
am EuDOEA. 

21 



322 RETROSPECTION. 



LETTER XXXY. 



KoME, January 14, 1876. 
Dear Brother Graham : 

'OU will see by the post-mark that we have left 
Florence ; or perhapsyour thought will be, "Dora 
and Kate are really in Kome." Well, no doubt it is 
a grand thing to be within fifteen minutes' walk of the 
Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Forum, and many an- 
other enduring monument of the past; but just now 
my heart goes irresistibly back to Florence. We spent 
a whole week in bidding adieu to scenes which have 
become endeared to us during the last two months. 
We followed the winding road to Bello Sguardo, to 
watch once more the struggle of each familiar spire, 
for the last ray of the sun, and the final conquest of 
Mount Morello's double peak over all. We climbed 
the opposite height of Fiesole, that with the halo of 
mellow rainbow tints reflected from the hills beyond, 
we might behold the Florence of the poet's pen and the 
painter's brush. We stood once more before the me- 
morial piles, which hide beneath the ashes of Angelo, 
Brunellesco, Cellini, and Giotto; we lingered long be- 
fore the works in which their spirits still live. If you 
had been with us all this time in Florence, you, too, 



LETTER THIRTY-FIVE. 32 3 

would have thought of leaving there with regret, which, 
having even Kome as a destination, could not prevent. 
But often an event which we anticipate with sentiments 
of sadness comes laden with more practical demands. 
We consumed the whole da}^ Monday in selecting stere- 
oscopic views and photographs ; so the dinner hour 
(six p. ih. ) found us tired, and with the duty of packing 
trunks still before us. Next time we come to Europe 
we'll know how to prepare for it ; but when one has 
an unnecessary amount of baggage, the annoyance of 
taking care of it must be endured. We had deter- 
mined to leave one trunk in care of Mrs. Jennings, 
but it, too, had to be packed. 

We went to work with all the patience at our com- 
mand ; but were not half finished when a rapping at 
our door was followed by a voice protesting against 
our spending this last evening in our room. 

" You must come to the drawing-room ; everybody 
is waiting for you," said the voice. No excuse would 
be accepted, and besides, we wanted to be sociable ; 
so we let our trunks rest for an hour, till we could 
exchange a few last words with our fellow-boarders. 
The occupants of our pension have changed somewhat 
since our first arrival. The old bachelor has gone back 
to Scotland, where no doubt he still pours his own 
coffee. 

Signor M. has become the husband of his Catholic 
sweetheart, and has gone with her too far away for us 
to know whether or not she has rescued him from 
heresy. The *' coffee-pot woman" and the ''old 



324 READY TO DEPART. 

maid '* were, however, amoDg those who desired our 
presence in the parlor, from which you may infer that 
they have become good friends of ours. 

At a very late hour everything was ready; the last 
strap buckled, and we were composing ourselves for a 
few hours* sleep. There was no time then for sad 
musing upon to-morrow's departure, nor did the morn- 
ing afford more leisure. The cabs were at the door by 
half past seven , and in a few minutes we were at the 
depot. There were six of us: a gentleman and his 
wife, from Chicago, another couple from Australia, 
Kate and myself./ The Chicago gentleman had one of 
Cook's tickets on which his way to Eome was marked 
out by two hours longer than the direct route. To a 
tourist who wants to see the country this would have 
been very agreeable, but Dr. C. declares " Italy's a 
grand humbug," and he's going to see as little of 
it as his wife will let him. 

*< But here's this old ticket that I've got to follow: 
I'll throw it away when I get to Eome and take one by 
the shortest road to Paris," said he in exasperation. 
A half dozen words of such broken French as I could 
command elicited from the agent a momentary quietus 
for his excited nerves. He could go with us by the short 
way. Our tickets were at last purchased, and we were 
in the cars, when the Doctor perceived a new cause of 
complaint — a just one this time. He had given the 
baggage agent fifty francs for which he had re- 
ceived ten francs less than the proper change. 
He dashed back into the depot, thus throwing his wife 



LETTER THIRTr-rrVE. 325 

into a state of anxiety lest he should be left ; but his 
English storming had but very little effect upon the 
Italian rascal. 

" Next time count your change," was the consoling 
advice of his wife, as he seated himself again all out of 
breath ; and this is the moral of the whole story. 
Every agent will cheat, if you give him a chance, and 
that shows the state of Italian morals. They think it 
no harm to cheat, at least they are not ashamed of it 
when they are detected. We bought some apples the 
other day on the street, for which we understood we 
were to pay ten centimes, 

"Another ten," he said; I gave it. 

"Another yet," said he, still holding out his hand. 
I saw now that he supposed me ignorant of the value 
of the coin, and intended to get all he could. Instantly 
I took back what I had already given him , and Kate 
began pouring the apples back into his basket. 

" Oh I no, no," he exclaimed, and laughingly 
expressed his willingness to accept what we had offered 
to give. But I must return to our journey. 

Our road led us along a valley, or rather a succession 
of valleys, for the Arno gave place to the Chiana, the 
Chiana to the Paglia, and this last to the Tiber. On 
either hand rise the green but treeless peaks of the 
Apennine's while the low land is already giving promise 
of its triple crop of olives, grapes, and wheat. Old 
Etruscan cities occur at intervals, interesting from their 
antiquity and their history. As we approached Arezzo , 
we found the ground covered with some inches of 



326 ARRIVAL AT ROME. 

snow, which gave the Doctor a new proof that Italy is 
a humbug. 

*' The further south we go the colder we find it — 
Oh ! yes, Italy is the place to spend the winter — and 
reeze, too," he added. Further on the snow aofain 
disappeared and the rain began pattering against the 
windows. - 

*' See that," said the Doctor again; " I told you so. 
It'll be raining all the time — every one of us'U have 
the fever — just the weather for it — better take some 
of my quinine," and he passed a bottle of the bitter 
stuff around. His quinine is scarcely more bitter, 
however, than his disposition to make the worst of 
everything. Arrived at Eome, a new difficulty pre- 
sented itself. We were immediately surrounded by 
the usual swarm of hotel drummers, among whom I 
found the one sent to meet us. I told him where to 
take us, and felt sure that all was going right; but the 
Doctor could not understand what the fellow said, and 
was disposed to believe that the omnibus was taking us 
anywhere except to Madam Lavigne's. Despite his 
predictions, however, we were set down at the right 
door, and directed to ascend to the third " etage^ At 
the head of the first flight Mrs. C. declared herself 
out of breath ; at the head of the second she was so 
exhausted that she could only scold ; on the third land- 
ing stood Madame Lavigne, smilingly waiting to re- 
ceive us. She took my hand and asked my name, 
then turned to treat the rest with similar courtesy, but 
they did not notice her. 



LETTER THIRTY-FIVE. 327 

"I think this is^ getting mighty near to heaven,", 
said Doctor C, in his most boisterous tone. Mrs. C. 
sank down upon the first chair, with the exclamation, 
"Oh, I can't stay here! I can't stand these steps ! 
If I'd known it was this high I never wouklhave come." 
Madame Lavigne was the picture of astonishment but 
a lady does not easily lose her presence of mind. She 
explained through me that they had engaged her rooms 
without inquiring about the stairs, and she did not 
think to mention it. By dint of much persuasion I in- 
duced Mrs. C. to look at the rooms, and candor con- 
strained her to admit she was pleased with them. 

It is now Thursday night, and both she and her hus- 
band are well satisfied with Madam Lavigne. Had 
they waited until now to express their opinion, they 
need not have been rude to the lady ; they need not 
have confirmed the reputation our people have of be- 
ing boisterous. There was such a striking contrast be- 
tween their excited manner and the calm polish of our 
landlady, that I began to believe the French, indeed, 
models of true politeness. But, yesterday, I was 
again made skeptical upon this head. We went to call 
on a friend who is staying at one of the most fashion- 
able and most expensive pensions in the city. 

"Is Madam R. in this house," I inquired of the 
landlady. 

" Madam R. ? " she repeated curtly ; " No." 

" She told me this was her address," I insisted. 

" What's the name? " she asked again, impatiently. 

** Madam R.," I repeated. " Oh ! " she exclaimed, 



328 FRENCH MANISTERS. 

*' Madam E., and she rolled the «« r " as only a French 
woman can ; and in a tone of contempt she rehearsed 
for me my faulty pronunciation. It happened our 
friend was not in, so we asked the privilege of leaving 
our cards. 

" Yes, you can leave them if you will hand them to 
the servant," and she drew herself up with offended 
dignity, to think I should ask of her so menial an 
office. My opinion now is that nationality does not 
make ladies or gentlemen, but that one who studies 
the happiness of others can not fail in gentility. 

But you are perhaps wondering what I have seen of 
Eome. Well, I'll tell you. The first evening I was 
at the table there hung on the wall in front of me a 
full-length portrait, from which I could scarcely take 
my eyes. The face is made sweet by a pair of calm 
blue eyes and a pair of gently smiling lips. His 
white hair appears as soft and silky as the satin cap 
which conceals a greater part of the shining locks ; a 
long white robe, confined by a golden girdle, and a 
pair of crimson slippers complete the figure. You 
can, no doubt, guess the original of this picture which 
proved so fascinating to me. 

*' Isn't the Holy Father a handsome man?" asked 
a little dwarf opposite me. My admiration was too 
.evident to require oral expression. But I began to 
realize that I was in a house with many Catholics, in 
whose estimation this was indeed the '■'■Holy Father." 
A conversation ensued, in which it appeared that sev- 
eral of the English were on the side of the Pope. 



LETTER THIRTY-SIX. 329 

They do not consider Victor Emanuel a wise rruler 
than Pius IX.; on the contrary, they say he has 
oppressed the poor with taxes ; and besides, he has 
greatly reduced the number of visitors who formerly 
came to Rome to attend the public ceremonies of the 
church. Since his humiliation the Pope never takes 
part in these festivals, so the people have lost interest 
in them. There is an Italian in the room talking 
about his views of Catholicism, and I want to hear, so 
I will close. EuDORA. 



LETTER XXXYI. 



Rome, January 1, 1876. 
Dear Brother ITich: 

P^ SPENT a whole hour yesterday in the Sistine 
(^ Chapel, and I was so impressed with the grandeur 
of the whole design that I wish you to know something 
about it. Italy is a new world to me, and a world full 
of such wondrous beauty that I wish to share it with 
every one who is dear to me. The Sistine Chapel is a 
part of the great Vatican, one of its eleven thousand 
rooms. It was erected under Sixtus IV. (1473), and 
from this pope it gets its name. It is one hundred 
and thirty-three feet long, forty-five feet wide, and 
the whole ceiling and walls are covered with frescoes 



330 SISTINE CHAPEL. 

by that unparalleled artist, Michael Angelo. These 
frescoes portray the whole history of man from the 
creation to the last judgment. The ceiling is divided 
into rectangular panels in which are painted four 
scenes from Creation, the Banishment from Eden and 
the Deluge. Clustered around this central portion 
are prophets and sibyls who foretell the coming of him 
who will lift man up by redeeming him from sin. In 
the four corners are most striking instances of the 
providence of God in saving his people from some 
threatened destruction : The Brazen Serpent, David 
and Goliath, the Hanging of Haman, and Judith with 
the head of Holifernes. I don't know whether or not 
you ever read the story of Judith. It is in one of the 
apocryphal books between Malachi and Matthew. I 
read all those books when a child, and they are often 
the source of scenes represented by the Old Masters. 
Next to the prophets and sybils are various biblical 
illustrations, which fill out the space to the wall. Then 
come rather dim portraits of twenty-eight " Holy 
Fathers," which fit the vertical strips between the 
windows. Below these are rectangular groups by 
various artists. On the right, Moses and Zipporah on 
their way to Egypt are met by an angel who bids him 
circumcise his infant son ; opposite is the baptism of 
Christ. Again, on the right, Moses slays the Egyp- 
tian , which leads him to withdraw from that idolatrous 
race; opposite, Christ triumphs over Satan in the 
Temptation. Right, Pharaoh and his host are over- 
whelmed in the Red Sea; left, the calling of Peter 



LETTER THIRTY-SIX. 331 

and Andrew, whose mission it is to lead men from the 
bondage of sin. Lastly, on the right, Moses receives 
the law from Mt. Sinai; and on the left, Christ is 
putting into this law a new spirit by his Sermon on 
the Mount. At one end, side by side, are the Kesur- 
rection of Jesus, and the dispute of the Archangel and 
Satan over the body of Moses. The remaining end is 
covered with the much-spoken of Last Judgment. To 
describe this would be impossible ; but perhaps I can 
give you some idea of its design. The central figure is 
Christ transformed from the gentle Teacher on the 
Mount to the unrelenting Judge. On his face is no 
shadow of mercy or pity; the hour for repentance is 
past, his long-suffering is at an end. The Virgin sits 
beside the throne, and veils her eyes from the sadden- 
ing scene. At the bottom, on the left, the dead are 
rising from their graves with slow, half-wakened 
motions, and as they try to rise fiends seize upon them 
and draw them towards a cave with horridly gaping 
mouth ; but angels overcome these evil demons by tear- 
ing from their foul grasp those who are to be of the 
blest. Some are already safe on the Judge's right 
hand ; but they seem to be yet uncertain of their sal- 
vation. On the left, crowds of martyred saints witness 
against their persecutors, who, with satanic impudence, 
are trying to force their way into Heaven. St. Bar- 
tholomew shows the skin which was stripped by them 
from his body; St. Catherine presents the wheel by 
which she was crushed ; St. Lawrence brings forth the 
gridiron over which he was roasted; St. Peter holds 



332 FEESCO WORK 

out the keys which prove his right to deny these evil 
ones admittance. Every shade of emotion, from 
despairing disappointment to demoniac rage, fills the 
faces of the rejected, and one may imagine the variety 
of attitudes into which their precipitated bodies are 
thrown. As they fall into the hands of Charon, the 
grim old boatman rows them to the other shore, then 
applying his oar as a scourge, he drives them from 
the boat upon the burning sands. Angelo revels in the 
ability to paint the forcible play of well-developed 
muscles, and in this picture he has largely indulged this 
taste. He cares not for beauty of face, and in no case 
except that of the Delphic and Libyan sibyls, and that of 
the newly-created Eve, has he indulged this weakness. 
The other sibyls and prophets, however, are simply 
so grand as to require no aid from mere beauty. Oh ! 
that I could have seen this chapel when fresh from its 
master's hand. Kate suggests that perhaps this pict- 
ure has led to the deifying of Mary; that the people 
looking upon this representation of her tenderness, 
have finally learned to think that such an intercessor is 
needed between man and Christ. I don't know how long 
since the worship of the Virgin began ; but her equality 
with God was never affirmed by decree till 1854. 
There is in St. Peter's a tablet making this statement, 
and in one of the public squares is a lofty monument 
in memory of the decree. This view of Mary invests 
her with all the loving, gentle attributes of Christ, 
leaving Him with all the severity with which Angelo 
represents him. 

The paipting of the Sistine Chapel was done under 



LETTER THIRTY-SIX. 333 

Pope Julius II. of whom Eaphael has painted so life- 
like a portrait, that I feel as if personally acquainted 
with the fiery old man. He sent to Florence for An- 
gelo, and would take no denial to his request that this 
artist should adorn with appropriate designs the chapel 
in which only he, the ruling pope, could officiate. 

"But I am a sculptor," said Angelo, "and no 
painter." 

" Painter or not," answered Julius, " you must cover 
this chapel with frescoes . " 

" I am under promise for as much work as I can do 
for along time ; get you a painter to work in colors- 
I prefer sculpture," again rejoined Angelo. 

But it was no use to dissent. Julius II. knew no law 
but his own will, and to this the artist had to yield. 
After much delay, he selected some half dozen assist- 
ants, had the scaffolds erected, and began. But the 
great genius watched with impatience the movements 
of these mediocres ; day by day, his own progress was 
hindered by this irresistible impatience. At last, his 
assistants came one morning to find the chapel door 
closed upon them, when they took the hint and de- 
parted to their homes in Florence. It then became 
agreed that nobody except a color-grinder and the Pope 
himself should come upon the scaifold, the one to pre- 
pare necessary materials, the other to urge on the work 
by his impatience. Almost daily, the " Holy Father" 
climbed up on the scaffold, and at the end of a year, he 
one day exclaimed : — 

" When will this thing come to an end?" 

" Whenever I can finish it," was the cool reply of 



334 DESIGNS BY ANGELO. 

Angelo, who never felt much awe in the presence of 
the " Infallible." 

"Do you want me to throw you down from this 
platform? " cried Julius in d towering rage. 

Angelo was not afraid of being literally hurled from 
the scaffold; but now that his heart was in the work, 
he did not wish another to take it from him ; so,tQ 
appease the Pope he consented to let the Eoman peo- 
ple see what he had done. In all the dust of removing 
the scaffold the Pope remained gazing upon the half 
finished ceiling, and on All-Saints' Day, all Eome was 
allowed that privilege. 

« ' You have omitted one thing, ' ' said the Pope ; ' ' you 
have put no golden crowns on the heads of the saints." 

It was customary with preceding artists to use 
much gilt, surrounding each head with a halo, till all 
naturalness of effect was destroyed ; but in this work 
Angelo had used none. The artist would probably 
have acted upon this suggestion, and supplied the 
wanting crowns; but, as usual, he was impatient to 
begin something new, so he replied : — 

" Oh ! these saints were all poor people, and never 
knew what it was to have gold on their apparel." 

This answer satisfied the Pope, gave Angelo an op- 
portunity to prosecute his work, and suggested to the 
artist world a new idea of conformity to nature. In 
the pictures of Giotte, Cimabue, and all those founders 
of Italian art, the background, instead of being a land- 
scape or some architectural design, is usually a layer 
of solid gilt. 



LETTER THIETY-SIX. 335 

While painting the last half of the chapel, Angelo 
asked leave of absence, in order to visit his friends in 
Florence. 

"When, then, will you finish my chapel?" de- 
manded the tyrannical Julius. 

" When I can ; when I can," replied Angelo. 

Whereupon the Pope struck him with his stick. 
Angelo immediately went home, where he was speedily 
sought out by the pope's favorite page, who was sent 
with money and apologies. Finally, in 1511, there 
came an end to the quarrels of these two men by the 
consummation of this wondrous masterpiece. It is a 
pity Angelo did not have a Julius to push him on to 
the completion of all his undertakings; for the num- 
ber of his finished works is quite small compared with 
the host of those which are but sufficiently advanced 
to show what a master must have been the chisel's 
guide. This study of an artist's life in connection 
with that of his contributions to the world's great art 
galleries, is most fascinating. 

While Michael Angelo was in Rome, Raphael too 
was here ; while the former was spoken against by en- 
vious rivals, the latter drew around him a circle of 
loving friends. I say Raphael was in Rome. Indeed, 
from the Sistine Chapel, in which crusty Angelo was 
trying the patience of Julius, one need merely as- 
cend a narrow flight of steps and pass through two 
ante-rooms, in order to be greeted by the sweet smile 
of him who painted the Transfiguration. Years have 
passed since then, but the gentle soul of Raphael still 



336 DESIGNS BY EAPHAEL. 

manifests itself in the unfading beauty of the scenes with 
which he has covered these walls. I can tell you of 
only two or three of these, the most celebrated. Fac- 
ing the entrance to the first room is what is called the 
" School of Athens." The scene appears to be in a 
large hall at the end of which is a stage approached 
by a magnificent flight of marble steps. In the center, 
on the topmost step, stands Plato, and, by his side 
is Aristotle, the one explaining to a listening group 
his Timaeus, the other his Ethics. On the left, lower 
down, is Pythagoras with a book of music open on 
his knee ; Socrates forms the center of another atten- 
tive circle ; Archimedes stoops over a slate covered with 
geometrical figures ; behind him is the Persian Zoro- 
aster with a celestial globe in his hand; and, beside him 
is Ptolemaus equally intent upon the study of a globe 
terrestial. You may imagine the handsome faces of 
these old philosophers ; but I had forgotten one of the 
striking. All alone, frowning, hearing none of the most 
speakers, doubting the honesty of all, is Diogenes. 
He is neither sitting nor Ijnng, but seems to have 
thrown himself down without regard to comfort of 
position. His doggedly snarling visage is not soon to 
be forgotten. 

In another room is the "JVIass of Bolsena," com- 
memorating an event which is said to have occurred in 
Bolsena, in 1263. In the center is an altar before 
which kneels a priest in the act of consecrating the 
bread and wine. He does not believe in the doctrine 
of Transubstantiation as taught by the church ; but to 



LETTER THIRTY-SIX. 337 

dissipate and rebuke his doubts, drops of real blood 
appear on the wafer. Cardinal Riario kneels in front 
of him and as he beholds the miracle, his anger is 
roused against the skeptic, who has thus made the 
Lord to bleed afresh. The flush of. anger is as nat- 
ural as if the real blood were rushing to the face of the 
indignant cardinal. Other figures kneel in worship, 
but these two are the actors of the scene. 

Opposite this is a very singular picture. At 
first glance, I thought an iron grating covered its 
central portion ; but this delusion was due to the brush 
of the same great artist. This is the prison window 
of Peter, and through the bars can be seen the dark 
form of the sleeping Apostle, over whom is bending 
the heavenly lighted person of the releasing angel. 
Left of this is Peter already led out by the angel, and 
right are the keepers, one of whom, just awaked and 
in terror, has lighted a torch and shakes his slumber- 
ing companions. Over all shines the moon through 
rifts in dark clouds, and this is one of the marvelous 
parts of the composition — this rendering of three 
different lights: that from the angel, the torch, and 
the moon . But I could write all night about Raphael • 
I will, right here, bid my pen be still. 

Yours, 

22 EUDOKA. 



338 ROME. 



LETTER xxxyn. 



EoME, January 26, 1876. 
Dear Brother Graham : 

MP) ERHAPS from the tone of our last two letters 
•^M^ you will expect in this an account of a personal 
interview with " His Holiness," Pope Pius IX. Well, 
you shall not be disappointed ; for, though for certain 
reasons we have not yet seen for ourselves the living 
original of that admirable portrait, some of our friends 
have obtained that privilege. As we were at dinner 
last Thursday evening, a rather important ring of our 
clamorous door-bell was followed by the entrance of 
Maddelena with a document of official dimensions. 

*'An audience for Dr. C. and Mr, H.," said Mad- 
ame, as the result of holding the address immediately 
under her nose for some minutes. 

Next morning as we were on our way to St. Peter's 
what was our surprise to meet these two gentlemen 
returning from the Corso at an hour when the Doctor 
is usually still snoring. 

" Oh I I've got my swallow-tail I " was his greeting. 

*'And our white cravats," added Mr. H., a Scotch- 
man whose suit of brown homespun seems perfectly in 
keeping with his shaggy beard and unsophisticated 
ways. 



LETTER THIRTY-SEVEN. 339 

*«At what hour are you expected at the Vatican? ** 
we inquired. 

"At a quarter before twelve — we must hurry on 
home to see that the ladies are ready in time.'* 

It was rather amusing to see the phlegmatic Doctor 
for once aroused from indifference. 

It was quite late when we returned that afternoon, but 
we found the Doctor alone in the drawing-room writ- 
ing by twilight. Of course we laughed at this unheard- 
of procedure on his part, and asked for an oral 
description of what he was doubtless communicating 
to paper. He assented, and I will repeat as nearly as 
possible his language : — 

*' Well, we all went in style this morning to the 
Vatican — drove in two-horse carriag-e rig-ht to the 
door. Mrs. C. and that other girl, Mr. H.'s niece, 
wore black dresses and black veils without bonnets or 
gloves, according to directions. We went up some- 
thing less than a thousand steps to that long hall you 
looked into the other day — the one with the red- 
cushioned chairs along the sides and a big arm-chair at 
the end with a bust of the Pope over it. You know 
they call it a loggia, and it has windows all on one 
side, and the other is painted with birds and flowers 
and such things. Well, I think there were sixty of us, 
mostly English or American, with a few French, per- 
haps. We had to wait about fifteen minutes, when 
that curtained glass door at the end was opened and 
the Pope came in with the cardinals and them other 
fellows. He was walking with a cane and looked 



340 THE POPE. 

pretty feeble, but still as fat and jolly as a Dutchman. 
We all stood up as he entered, and as I happened to 
be at the seat nearest the door, he commenced on me. 
I just dropped down on one knee — on account of my 
rheumatism this wasn't very easy — and then the Sec- 
retary read my name and where I was from. 

" ' From America, are you? ' said the Pope, mighty 
pleasant ; and I said : 

" ' Yes, from Amevicy,'' and then I gave his hand a 
hearty shake. 

*' Mrs. C. was next, and as he went to her I got up 
and took my chair again. I forgot one thing — didn't 
think of it till I saw all the others do it — that was 
to kiss his ring. I had just as lief shown the old man 
this honor as not, as long as he's used to it; but 
he didn't take any notice of it. He had something to 
say to every one, so it took half an hour or more for 
him to get around, and then he made a little speech in 
French, but of course I didn't understand that. Mr. 
H. says it was very fine." 

Here Mr. H. came to the rescue, but he could give 
us only the general idea. He began with contrasting 
his eighty-four years and white hairs with the youthful 
faces of his audience, and assured them that the expe- 
rience of his life had taught him the lesson that good- 
ness is indispensable to happiness. He concluded by 
pronouncing a blessing upon the baskets of beads and 
other trifles carried by the visitors for this purpose. 
Mrs. C. had three or four rosaries strung on her arm 



LETTER THIRTY-SEVEN. 341 

which she will present, blessing and all, to some Cath- 
olic friends in America. 

Now, perhaps you can guess what are the certain 
reasons which have deterred us from o-ratit'vino; our 
curiosity by forming the acquaintance of the "Holy 
Father." We could obtain an audience by merely 
requesting it; we do not object to the costume, for it 
is very appropriate to wear black to the funeral of so 
near a friend as principle; we know one requirement 
of true religion is to visit those who are in prison, but 
a voluntary hiding of one's self in a magnificent palace 
can scarcely come under this head. However amiable 
the aged Pius IX. may be, we can not bow to the 
embodiment of all the anti-Christian pretensions which 
belong to this ofSce. Yet Protestants are in the habit 
of doing this very thing — this is one of the sights 
almost invariably put , down in a programme for 
Rome. 

If one comes here with the determination to attend 
all the church festivals, he will find his time fully occu- 
pied. There are three hundred and sixty-five places 
of Catholic worship in the city and each is sacred to 
some certain saint, who is annually honored by a sea- 
son of special remembrance. Each festival consists of 
vespers the afternoon preceding, high-mass in the morn- 
ing, and vespers again. During the two weeks since 
our, arrival there have been the feasts of St. Peter's 
Chair, of St. Antony, of St. Agnus, of St. Ignatius, of 
St. Paul's Conversion, and doubtless others of which 



342 *' HOLY FAMILY." 

we have not heard. We were top late for the week of 
Epiphany, so we failed to see the sacred " Bambino " 
exhibited in the front of the church of Ara Coeli. 
This is simply a doll made of wood from the Mount of 
Olives, made by a monk and painted, they say, by an 
angel. On the day that it is presented to the public 
all the lon^ flight of steps leading from the piazza 
below to this church on the top of the Capitoline Hill, 
is crowded with spectators, and as a white-gloved 
priest holds the idol up to view, every Catholic falls to 
his knees and utters a prayer. We wished to see this 
image before which Rome is wont to bow, so we 
applied to the sacristan of Ara Coeli. Eight willingly 
he led us into the inner sanctum, and bade us wait till 
he could bring the key. It was a tiny chapel with a 
simple altar upon which he lighted two of the candles. 
He inserted the key in a brass plate, above the center 
of this altar, turned it, pulled back the plate, thus 
revealing an inner lock. By unfastening this he 
loosened a pair of stout cords which, I suppose, are 
connected by hidden pulleys with the sliding doors to 
a niche above. At any rate, he drew these cords, the 
doors slided apart and there we were in front of the 
"Holy Family: " a cradle in the center, Joseph and 
Mary beside it in attitudes of adoration. The priest, 
or Franciscan monk rather, pulled off his skull-cap, 
but we felt no great awe as yet. He now drew the 
cradle out upon the altar, removed the covering and 
unlocked the casket. The gleam of diamonds, rubies, 
emeralds and gold would have dazzled us had we not 



LETTER THIRTY-SEVEN. 343 

preyiously heard of its splendors. The doll is about 
two feet long, wrapped in cloth of silver brocaded with 
gold, and literally covered with blazing jewels. Its 
head is adorned with a crown of gold set with gems, 
and its feet are clad with the same precious metal. 
The handsomest rings, the most exquisite brooches, 
chains of greatest value, have been appended to it as 
votive offerings by the rich. And after all it is only 
a homely wooden doll, though they call it " 1/ Santis- 
simo Bambino " (Most Holy Infant). " Multo rico '* 
(very rich), said the sacristan winking his left eye as 
if proud of his charge. We gave him a franc for 
allowing our unhallowed gaze to rest upon his god, and 
he was quite content with his half hour's work. This 
" Bambino " has an elegant carriage and horses of its 
own, and as it is driven by its liveried coachmen 
through the streets, the people kneel in deep humility. 
It is only taken out when some one is very ill, and 
thinks nothing short of a miracle can restore his health. 
Its visits are very brief, however, though formerly it 
was sometimes left for days with the patient. One 
woman took advantage of this a great while ago, by 
substituting another doll in place of the real one. 
She thought she would never die if she could keep the 
' « Blessed Infant ' ' always beside her. The Franciscans 
did not discover the forgery till at midnight they were 
awakened by the furious ringing of bells and thunder- 
ing knocks at the door. Imagine their surprise when, 
opening it, they found the little pink Bambino, all naked 
and shivering, begging for admittance. Since then, a 



344 <' BLESSED INFANT," 

monk always attends it on its visits to the sick, and 
watches it narrowly. 

Now do not think I am writing these things upon un- 
certain hearsay. There is no doubt that the ignorant 
believe this whole story, and that even the intelligent 
Catholic dare not deny it. This is but a specimen of 
the heathenish superstitions which we are finding 
every day in connection with the Church of Rome. 
Kate will write you next week some items in regard to 
missionary work in the city, as we are beginning to 
realize, as never before, how greatly such eflforts are 
needed here. What a burlesque that Romanism should 
claim the name of Christianity I How much longer 
shall this corrupt system pollute the earth I Can noth- 
ing be done to open the eyes of this deluded people. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER XXXYIII. 



EoME, January 24, 1876. 
Dear Flora : 

OUR account of your Christmas joys came to hand 
the other day ; but I have seen so many things 
since then that the season seems long past. We 
are sight-seeing in earnest now; for Rome is too 
expensive a place, to stay longer than necessary to 



LETTER THIRTY-EIGHT. 345 

become acquainted with its chief wonders. On Satur- 
day we went to see, among other things, the Tarpsean 
Rock. This is a steep bluff on the south side of the 
Capitoline, one of the far-famed Seven Hills. In 460 
B. C, the Sabines were attacking the city, and by 
climbing these heights, succeeded in taking it by sur- 
prise. Later, the Gauls made a similar attempt, and 
were near the top, when the geese sacred to the god- 
dess Juno began a terrible quacking, which gave the 
alarm. Aroused by this sound, an officer named Man- 
lius hurled backward down the precipice, the foremost 
of the assailants, who in his fall dragged others of his 
followers with him, and thus Rome was saved. You 
have read this in your history of Rome, and you 
remember that after this, on each annual recurrence 
of the day, a goose was carried in triumphal procession 
to the spot, while a dog was there crucified, because 
on that memorable night, the watch dogs of the city 
had failed to give any warning. Over this same rock, 
I am sorry to say, the brave Manlius was afterwards 
thrown, because he was accused of ambitious designs. 
In the '■'■ Marble Faun' ^ Nathaniel Hawthorne repre- 
sents one of his characters as ridding himself of an 
enemy by precipitating him from the same steep. So 
you see there are associations enough of history and 
fiction to make the Tarpsean Rock an object of great 
interest. 

A broad flight of steps ascends from the Piazza 
Campidoglio, and leads under an archway in the direc- 
tion indicated on the map as that of the sought-for 



346 TAEP^AN ROCK. 

object. Beyond the arch a palace with a neat garden 
appeared on the right with no hint of a precipice any- 
where. 

*' Rupe Taryei^ 8ignora,^^ said a musical voice, and 
turning we found ourselves addressed by one of those 
remarkably beautiful children, which are now and 
then encountered among the host of dirty, repulsive 
beggars, which crowd every passway. How sweetly 
the little fellow lisped these words, how bright was 
his face, I find no words to tell; but we could not 
resist being led by such an angel. He could not have 
been more than six years old ; but he seemed to know 
where he was going and pointed out intelligently the 
places of interest along the way. It was truly novel 
to have such an infant for a guide. Soon he paused 
before a door on which was written, sure enough, the 
words with which he had addressed us ^^Rupe Tarpei.^^ 
A woman saw us, and, coming forward with an enor- 
mous key, opened for us this door, whereupon our 
infantine guide looked up with an expression of 
expectancy in his soft black eyes. We could not 
resist the mute appeal, but slipped a coin into his tiny 
palm. A curly-haired girl standing by tried to take 
this away from him when our backs were turned ; but 
the woman interfered in his behalf. 

We followed her now through a garden of cabbages, 
bordered with blooming jonquils and roses, along a 
graveled path, till we reached a low ivy-clad brick wall. 

"There is the Tarpsean Eock," she said, pointing 
to a projecting ledge, above which rise the walls of a 



LETTER THIRTY-EIGHT. 847 

great house, and below which are the roofs of many 
others. I have seen many a rock more picturesque ; 
but such is the eflFect of association that we gathered 
eagerly mementoes from the abundant clusters of ivy- 
leaves. Our chaperone stood patiently waiting till we 
were satisfied with gazing upon the surrounding scene ; 
the Colosseum, the Palace of the Csesars, a wide 
extent of the Campagna, with the last rays of the sun 
upon it all. 

Our little girl, having failed to get possession of the 
*' copper" we had given to the boy, stood waiting to 
waylay us, as we came out. 

^^ Bella, bella Sigiorinna,'" said she, meaning " Beau- 
tiful, beautiful lady." I suppose she thought we 
would reward her for the compliment, but there are too 
many calls for our money. Another joined her in her 
entreaties for " una soldo " (one cent nearly), and 
further on we again met our little guide. He was 
leading by the hand a dirty-faced youngster, with hair 
uncombed and clothes ragged and soiled. He said in 
Italian something about his ^^fratello " (brother), and 
begged us to give the " bambino " (baby) something. 
Here we were literally surrounded by infantine beg- 
gars, but they soon concluded it was vain to waste time 
from play in pursuing us, so they soon resumed their 
game ; but I shall not soon forget the picture of our 
beautiful little guide importuning for his dirty, ragged 
little brother. 

We often see funny things on the street. The 
other day, we met a proud papa who was teaching his 



348 DISPUTED STICKS. 

little one how to walk. He had a long band of cotton 
passed over its breast and under its arms, and by this 
he supported it while its tiny feet just touched the 
pavement. The father was pleased to have us notice 
his pet, and smiled back at our amused expression. 

To-day, I was sitting on the steps of St. Peter's, 
when two boys began fighting over some sticks which 
each seemed to claim. The larger boy finally got the 
other one down, and was beating him unmercifully, 
when a man came to the rescue. He took hold of the 
conqueror, spanked him, cuffed him, and kicked him, 
till he was only able to slink around the pedestal of 
St. Paul's statue. In the meantime, the other boy 
got up, grabbed the disputed sticks, and beat them to 
pieces over an upright stone. This seemed to me 
punishment enough for the larger boy ; but just then 
a soldier or policeman came upon the scene of action, 
took his turn at boxing the unfortunate fellow, and then 
led him off perhaps to lock him up. This is the first 
thing of the kind I have yet observed ; indeed, the 
people generally seem perfectly good-natured. 

I am too tired to write any more. We have worked 
so hard since coming here that we need rest when 
night comes. To-morrow I intend to stay at home and 
write to Brother Graham, more for the sake of getting 
rested than anything else. It is not prudent to weary 
one's self too much in this climate. I wish you could 
see the things lam now seeing every day; but I'll 
bring you a stereoscopic views of the places we visit, 
and from these you may get a faint idea. In fact, you 



LETTER THIRTY-NINE. 349 

must study and learn a great deal yet before you 
could appreciate many of the wonders of Europe. 
We had a letter from Vachel to-day, who now intends 
to join us the first of March, though he regrets that his 
time for study is so nearly spent. Expecting soon a 
nice long answer to this, I'll fold it and write the 
address-. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER XXXIX. 



KoME, January 28, 1876. 
JJr. J. C Lindsay and Wife: 

^\EAE BROTHER AND SISTER, If I can suffi- 
(^^^ ciently concentrate my mind, I will answer your 
highly-appreciated letter. At an adjoining table four 
of our fellow boarders are engaged in an edifying 
conversation in French. They are an interesting 
study, as they are the first of that nationality with 
whom I have met. One couple consists of a mother 
and her grown-up son Dr. Carr, our Chicago friend, 
says " she is the greatest saw-^ill of a woman he ever 
saw." I do not know exactly what he means by that; 
but the monotonous rise and fall of her voice in con- 
versation, the occasional grand explosions of emphasis, 



350 FRUIT FROM THE VATICAN. 

the incessant rocking to and fro of her body, do some- 
what suggest this noisy, untiring machine. 

It seems one characteristic of the French mother is 
to keep her son always tied to her apron string. This 
young man must be twenty-two or three, and yet he 
occupies the same room with his mother. They are 
surely of the common people, I think, or they should 
know better. The whole set are Oatholic, and once in 
a while, under the impression that no one can under- 
stand their language, they express their opinions of 
Protestants, pronouncing them, as a class, ill-bred and 
irreligious. You should have seen with what pride the 
fat old man (another of party) brought in an orange 
from the Vatican, the other day. 

"From the garden of the Holy Father I " he ex- 
claimed, as he exhibited the beautiful fruit to our ad- 
miring eyes. 

I had the honorof eating a wee bit, but I must confess 
it was very sour. The same evening he and his wife 
showed us three tiny bronze images of Joseph, Mary, 
and Christ ; they are only an inch long, so they carry 
them in their pocketbooks and no doubt kiss them and 
pray over them every day. But these are not the only 
Catholics in the house ; there are five English or rather 
four English and one American, who are of the same 
persuasion. One of them, a young girl, is about to 
go through her first Lent, and she is already dreading 
it. This is Friday, the day on which they usually eat 
only fish and vegetables : but Madam L. surprised 
them by preparing a most delicate dish of bird which 



LETTER THIRTY-NINE. 351 

she declared was legal diet. The first one looked at it 
doubtfully, then took a very small piece; the second 
said, ** Certainly, it is all right," and also partook; 
influenced by their example, the young girl took two 
pieces, and when it was again handed around a third. 
They all felt some misgivings ; but as the fowl had a 
French name, and as Madam L. had prepared it, I 
suppose they thought she would be responsible for the 
sin. 

But it was not only the chattering French who 
tended to distract my thoughts at the beginning of this 
letter. At the close of the day, we English-speaking 
folks are wont to recount our exploits. If we have 
been among the ruins, the first question is, *' What 
have you stolen, to-day? " This means, " Have you 
stumbled upon any rare bits of marble hidden in the 
dirt, and saved them from the lime kiln by bringing 
them away ? " I suppose there is no other city in the 
world where one can not walk a dozen steps without 
coming upon fragments of this valuable material. 
Among the ruins, the quantity and variety are truly 
wonderful, and each one tries to find the prettiest piece 
as a souvenir of the spot. I have had the luck to thus 
far, surpass all competitors, by finding a large piece of 
luminario, a dark green marble flecked with trans- 
parent crystals. It was lying, too, in a place where no 
custodian is set to watch, so I did not steal it in any 
sense of the term. It was lying under the shadow of 
a ruined temple not far from the Colosseum. I have 
also a diamond of yellow marble, which I found among 



352 THE CAPUCHINS. 

the rubbish in the palace of Tiberius Csesar. It is just 
as it was used in paving the floor over which he walked. 
I shall put the two together in a paper weight, or 
rather I shall have a lapidary to do this for me. 

January 29 — By the time I had written this far 
I was too sleepy for further work, and now I am tired 
enough to rest again. 

We have lost no time since this morning at half-past 
nine. We repaired first to the church of the Capu- 
chins. In the church itself are several fine pictures ; 
but, as usual, where these pictures should be, was only 
a dingy succession of green curtains. This is a trick 
by which the holy monastics turn a penny in their 
lazy way. A Capuchin in his heavy brown gown, with 
bare feet and shorn head, came promptly forward to 
draw aside the obstructing curtains, and we found our- 
selves in presence of Guido Reni's representation of 
the Archangel Michael conquering Satan. This is 
one of the most famous works of the artist. The 
Archangel seems more than earthly. His foot is on 
the head of the fiend, but he needs no support, for his 
wings bear him up ; his frame has the force and dig- 
nity of most perfect manhood, while his face has the 
soft, refined beauty of woman. The artist has given 
to Satan the face of the Pope who then occupied the 
chair, and this shows how genius dares to take privi- 
leges which might cost an ordinary man the forfeit of 
his life. 

"Now, show us the vaults," was our request as 
soon as the screen was once more replaced. You have 



LETTER THIRTY-NINE. 353 

read Mark Twain's account of these ghastly chambers, 
but no description can quite prepare you for the scene. 
They are not subterranean; on the contrary, they have 
the benefit of the full daylight, and never did daylight 
reveal such a spectacle as presented here. Skulls, 
vertebrae, leg and arm bones, ribs, in short, every bone 
of the human frame is employed in the fantastic dis- 
play. Grottoes are built in which recline grinning 
skeletons, clasping in their fleshless fingers a crucifix 
or some such symbol. They have on the same dark, 
coarse robe as in life, and the senseless grin with which 
they greet you is a sad burlesque upon proud human- 
ity. Overhead, in one of the four rooms, the central 
decoration of the ceiling is an entire skeleton of more 
delicate mould than ordinary. This the monk pointed 
out as one of the Barberini family — a countess, who 
was once, perhaps, as beautiful as the Princess Mar- 
guerite, of whom the Italians are now so fond. It 
was one of the Barberini who founded this church and 
convent, and, as special mark of gratitude, these Capu- 
chins have given to this noble lady a prominent place 
among their beloved dead. Upon the floor of each 
vault is three feet of earth from Jerusalem, in which 
sacred dust they used to give their brethren temporary 
burial ; but that is now forbidden by the government. 
When the space became filled then the one who had 
longest lain buried was taken up to make room for a 
fresh corpse. Some of these who are put together 
and clothed as ornaments for the niches still have frag- 
ments of skin and hair adhering to their horrid faces. 

23 



354 QUIRINAL PALACE. 

One has been dead only ten years, another has occu- 
pied his nook for more than a hundred. I do not 
know why it is the bones do not crumble ; but this 
centenarian seems only somewhat bleached. I can 
never forget this sig-ht. Lono; after the tints and 

o o o 

designs of Eaphael have faded from my mind these 
portraits of death will recur vividly to me. Before 
leaving, Mrs. Carr, with the help of Miss Shaw, 
secured a little of the Jerusalem dirt, which she pro- 
poses to put in her cabinet of curiosities. 

We went next to the Quirinal Palace, which is airily 
situated on one of the Seven Hills of Rome. From 
1594 to 1870 it was the summer residence of the popes, 
and doubtless Pius IX. felt a little out of humor when 
Victor Emanuel coolly took possession of this desira- 
ble retreat. Small, dark, mustached Italian riflemen, 
with their bunches of cock plumes overshadowing one 
side of their faces, keep watch at the door. A fine- 
looking fellow, all in scarlet, takes charge of um- 
brellas, and in a low tone, directs the visitor to go 
straight ahead to the broad marble stairway at the other 
side of the extensive court. We ascended the stairs 
between the rows of flower pots which enliven it on 
either hand. We were shown through a suite of ten 
rooms, on whose walls hung beautiful pictures in 
tapestry or on canvas. In the waiting-room is a full 
length portrait of the king's father, which is interest- 
ing as a proof that the former has inherited a large 
part of his notorious ugliness. This room has instead 
of wall paper, hangings of rich canary-colored silk, the 



LETTER THIRTY-NINB. 355 

chair cushions being of the same rich material. The 
adjoining chamber is that of the throne, and is all in 
crimson, except the golden fringe of the canopy over 
the throne, and of the throne itself. Next is the 
assembly room of ambassadors, of which the hangings 
are in blue and gilt, and whose sole picture is a life- 
like portrait of the German emperor. This is a mer- 
ited honor shown by Victor Emanuel to Frederic 
William, for it is the friendship of this powerful sov- 
ereign which keeps the French from interfering with 
the present government of Italy. I have heard Catho- 
lics in this house express a desire for such action on 
the part of the French. 

The last room into which we were conducted was 
the dining hall, in which a busy scene was in progress. 
Half a dozen men were engaged in rubbing up the gilt 
candelabra, and furnishing them with wax candles. 
The long tables were already spread with the finest, 
whitest linen, and we could imagine the gayety of the 
scene which to-morrow evening is to bring. The guide 
said there were ambassadors and other distinguished 
guests expected, but he said never a word about our 
coming ( !). If I had a velvet dress, diamonds, and 
lace, I should like to be one of the party; but I had 
rather be myself than the Princess Marguerite. Her 
husband, oldest son of Victor Emanuel, is very dissi- 
pated, and, what is worse, does not love her. He was 
in love with a Saxon princess, who died; and he 
married the beautiful Genoese from policy. I think I 
can do better than that, don't you? I find there are 



356 CONGRATULATIONS. 

many things worse than poverty — I mean worse than 
being moderately poor. 

But it is very late, and I can add only a few com- 
ments upon your letter. I congratulate you now upon 
your prospects of a happy life. If 1 were not so 
happy myself I might envy you; but, never mind, 
maybe I too shall have a cozy little home some day. 
I am glad you enjoyed your little tour, and that you. 
Sister Emma, call my Father's house " home." I agree 
with you in thinking Lexington somewhat smaller than 
Cincinnati, and less beautiful than Louisville ; but 
there are many most estimable people buried away in 
those antiquated houses. 

Now, about the pictures Mrs. Thomas wished me to 
select for her over here. I have concluded that the 
Centennial will be the best place to purchase them. I 
find everywhere works of art — the choicest works 
being prepared for the gisfi&t Exposition. There will 
be landscapes of the finest natural scenery, and num- 
berless copies of the works of the old masters. Now, 
when these artists once get their pictures over the 
waters, rather than bring them back, they will sell 
them comparatively cheap. I can aid Mrs. T. by tell- 
ing her what copies are true to the originals. If I had 
money to invest in paintings I should pursue this 
course. Hoping we may meet in Philadelphia next 
June, I am Your sister, 

EUDORA. 



LETTER FORTY. 357 



LETTER XL. 



EoME, February 6, 1876. 
Dear Mother: 

tN my last letter to the Times you will see how we 
didiiHcsll on the Pope, and in this I propose to tell 
you how we did pay a visit to Garibaldi. On last 
Monday morning Kate and I determined to do nothing 
till noon, but rest; so we happened, for a wonder, to 
be in as Dr. and Mrs. Carr, Mr, Mintone and his niece, 
came in to lunch. They said they had been to see 
Garibaldi, but had not been received. They had driven 
up to the gate and asked to be admitted, when a ser- 
vant stuck her head out at the upper window and in- 
formed them that the General was not yet out of bed. 
Nothing daunted they inquired at what hour they could 
see him. After a consultation with her master, the 
woman came down stairs with the message : — 

*'I will see as many as choose to come this after- 
noon at two o'clock." 

At this the party left well satisfied, and camp home 
to lunch. Miss Shaw, Kate and I concluded to ac- 
company them. I must admit I felt a little nervous 
about my toilette, for my Sunday dress now is that 
brown merino which I wore for every day at Hocker 
two years ago. To be sure I have made it over till it 



358 GARIBALDI. 

is passable on ordinary occasions, but one doesn't have 
to be introduced to a famous General every day. My 
gloves, too, were out at the fingers, because I had been 
too busy to go to the Corso for a new pair, but Miss 
Shaw reminded me it would not be polite to offer my 
gloved hand to a man of distinction. At last we were 
under way. But it was with some trepidation we 
found the carriage of the others already out of sight. 
As we drove past the Porta Pia, the very gate by which 
Victor Emanuel entered on the 20th of September, 
1870, we met a body of Italian cavalry. They were 
simply out for exercise, I suppose ; but so continually 
does one encounter the blue uniform that it appears as 
if a war were constantly impending. Italy has, in 
proportion to her population, the largest standing army 
in Europe ; but it is doubtless necessary for the main- 
tenance of the present government. The tramp of 
the cavalry had not died away when there came into 
view a much larger display of infantry. They were 
straggling along in a very disorderly manner. I do 
not mean they were making a noise — they never do 
that — but they were stepping without regard to time. 
They were probably on their way to the open space in 
front of St. John Lateran, one of the large churches 
near the southern wall, where I have often seen them 
drilling. The Italian soldiers are usually far from 
handsome; they are so small and dark, and their uni- 
form is so ugly. It is not that rich, dark blue so be- 
coming to the fair-haired Saxon, nor yet the light blue 
of our own soldiers, but just that tint between the two 



LETTER FORTY. 359 

which would be trying to any complexion. To make 
it worse, they wear baggy, dirty linen overalls to save 
their pants. We had scarcely made our way through 
this double line of youthful, would-be heroes, when 
our driver suddenly turned into a gate, and to our joy 
we found Dr. C. and the rest still waiting. We were 
in a large yard planted with various shrubs and car- 
peted with grass; there was a green-house near the 
gate, and the gentle murmur of a fountain came from 
the court beyond. The villa, with its cream-colored 
• walls and pillared entrance, seemed adapted to its sur- 
roundings. All this I took in at a glance, and then we 
all became absorbed in watching for the door to open. 
There was no bell to ring, and no one to tell us how 
long we must wait. I was a little excited at the thought 
of seeinoj this man who has wrought such chano;es in 
his land. I already felt awed in presence of the digni- 
fied form conjured up by my imagination. I felt sure 
of the bristling mustache, the glittering epaulets, the 
erect attitude, the condescending manner. A foppish 
Italian who came up about this time seemed equally 
flustered. He asked Mr. Mintone to present for him 
his letter of introduction. 

" I am not the porter, sir," said Mr. M., with Scotch 
bluntness ; and as just at that minute the door opened, 

Signor had to enter with his letter in his own 

hand. It was a man servant who led us up the stone 
stairway and through a small, scantily furnished cham- 
ber. Dr. Carr was in advance, and, as I crossed the 
threshold of the next door, I saw him leaning over a 



360 THE RECEPTION. 

chair at the end of a long, bare table. As the Doctor 
moved his portly form to one side, there first appeared 
a smoking cap of scarlet embroidered with gold, then 
an abundance of white flowing locks which mingled 
themselves with the silvery beard of a man who was 
either old or broken down by exposure. Dr. C. took 
upon himself the task of presenting us one at a time, 
I being among the first. 

" Miss Lindsay, from Kentucky," said Dr. C. 

"Ah!" said the General, "from Kentucky?" and 
he extended his left hand. 

The movement of the arm was stiff, and the hand 
itself was swollen quite out of shape. I took it as 
gently as possible and looked into his bright dark 
eyes. It was only a moment and I was glad it could 
not be longer; for I was overcome at the sight of this 
once vigorous man so prostrated and enfeebled. 
I could now survey him while the rest were shaking 
hands with him. His body was clad in a gray and 
black striped woolen garment, quite loose and seem- 
ingly shapeless. (It may have been a dressing- 
gown.) Around his neck was a scarlet scarf, his 
right arm was in a sling. I had expected to be awed 
by the dignity of a powerful general ; but the emotion 
I now felt was pure pity unmixed with awe. The 
sight, too, made me realize more than ever before the 
frailty of the human frame. 

" Take care of the fire," spoke the invalid in a mild 
tone as Mrs. Carr swept her skirts over the hearth. 

There seemed little need for this warning, for there 



LETTER FORTY. 361 

were only a few smoldering embers left, and the whole 
room had a cold, desolate air. The floor was carpetless 
and upon the tiles were scattered litter of apparently 
several days' accumulation. I felt that I would be glad 
to go to work and make all about the old man cheerful. 

Mr. Catrell, the Australian, assured His Excellency 
that he had come 17,000 miles, and that he felt the 
honor of seeing him was sufficient to repay the separa- 
tion from friends and the trials of the sea. 

"lam very proud to see you all here," was the 
remark of the General as he shook hands with the last. 

" On the contrary, we are proud of having such an 
honor," responded Miss Shaw, and then we bowed 
ourselves out. 

Such was our visit to Garibaldi, and such is the 
state to which a rheumatism brought on by exposures 
has reduced the active soldier who won for Victor 
Emanuel the crown of united Italy. He has had three 
wives, but the first died, the second was false to him, 
the third has left him a widower with two little chil- 
dren, a girl and boy. His two oldest sons, Menotti 
and Ricardo, are officers in the army. One is apt to 
envy the fame of such a man as Garibaldi, but there is 
oftener happiness to be found in ahumbler, more quiet 
lot. We were expressing our sympathy with the 
desolate old man, w^hen an English lady remarked that 
Garibaldi doubtless feels the cheerlessness much less 
than we might suppose; "for," said she, " the Ital- 
ians know little of such comforts as Americans are 
used to." 



362 " ST. Peter's prison.** 

This is probably true; for Miss Denneberg, my 
French teacher, has given us a peep behind the curtains 
of an Italian home. We see the ladies on the streets 
with elegant silk velvets draping their forms in ample 
folds; but Miss D. says under that costly array is 
often the most disgusting untidiness. She was gov- 
erness in the family, and thus often helped to dress 
the half-grown girls. Their under-garments were 
invariably torn and soiled, but the velvets must go on 
the outside. They were never fit to receive company 
except at appointed hours ; for, at other times, they 
were too slovenly. If they are thus careless about 
their persons, it is not likely that they would take much 
care of their houses. I can only say, I hope my father's 
old age may be made more comfortable than that of 
the great Garibaldi. 

After returning from this visit, we repaired accord- 
ing to agreement, to a little church called " Sb. Peters 
in Prison " which is at one corner of the old Forum. 
It is a very singular church, as it is partly under 
ground, and there is a second one built over it. We 
entered by a low side-door and saw to the right under 
the low-arched roof a number of kneeling worshipers. 
In the dim light, made more dim by the smoke of the 
incense, there was an unusual solemnity in the vesper 
service. At half past four, about twenty people, 
mostly ladies, were assembled at this door, and a little 
old man with a grizzled, beard appeared as the leader. 

*' We will descend now," said he, swinging back an 



LETTER FORTY. 363 

iron grate, below which was a flight of steps leading 
into darkness. 

A young man stood at the top of the steps 
and gave each in passing down a coil of waxed candle- 
wick. These we lighted to guide our steps, and by 
their aid we made our way to a dungeon of very nar- 
row dimensions, with cold ground floor and walls made 
from great rough blocks of tufa. In this and a simi- 
lar room below, it is said that St. Peter was imprisoned. 
We had entered this dismal place by a broad stair- 
way, but in former times prisoners were let down 
through a hole in the center of the ceiling, while a 
rough, narrow flight of steps, of which a few stones 
still remain, was that over which they were drawn back 
to day-light in order to be hissed and stoned by the 
populace, or thrown into the Tiber. It was by this 
same stair Cicero came forth and announced to the 
people that the conspirators with Cataline had ceased 
to live. The Emperor Vitellius was murdered close to 
the exit of these stairs ; two Roman Decemvirs 
Claudius and Oppius, 499 B. C, here committed sui- 
cide ; and here Jugurtha was starved to death by Mar- 
ius. It is by some considered the oldest structure in 
Rome. In going down the very narrow steps to the 
room below, our taper-light fell upon a profile cut in 
the solid rock on one side of the wall. This Catholic 
pilgrims are wont to kiss ; for they say this was the 
pillow of Peter, upon which he has left the outline of 
his face. Below, was pointed out the column to which 



364 SUBTERRANEAN DUNGEONS 

he, along with St. Paul, was tied for nine months. 
More wonderful still, is a perpetual spring of clear 
water, which, it is claimed by the " Faithful," sprang 
up in answer to the prayer of Peter, that he might 
have water to baptize the two converted jailers. But 
this same spring is referred to by early historians as 
having existed before the time of Christ. 

On the fourth of July, at night, these prisons are 
visited by various brotherhoods of monks who pros- 
trate themselves upon the ground in silent devotion. 
These two rooms are no recent discovery; but, not 
long since, the great English archaeologist, Mr. Parker, 
our grizzly bearded guide, arrived at the conclusion 
that there must be something more beyond. In early 
prisons, it was customary to have two such rooms for 
the jailers, while three hundred yards further, were 
the still more awful subterranean dungeons of the con- 
demned criminals. These two are themselves subter- 
ranean now ; but that is because the dirt of centui'ies 
has gradually risen above them as it had over the 
Forum. Well, the result proved Mr. Parker correct, 
for the passage is now dug out, and beyond it are 
seven cells. We entered the labyrinth, which is so low 
one must stoop in order to walk, and so narrow that 
your dress rubs against the dirty walls at every step. 
Moreover, as it gradually descends it becomes slippery, 
bat the novelty kept us from thinking of these slight 
annoyances. One by one, after having traversed this 
three hundred yards, we came upon the seven chambers 
in which for centuries the prisoners of Rome were con- 



LETTER FORTY. 365 

fined and tortured. There are still other cells below 
these, plunged into deeper darkness, but they are filled 
with water, thus preventing further excavations at 
present. Mr. Parker points out a dark corner as the 
place in which Jugurtha was tortured, and it seems 
quite probable he is right ; for the Latin historian, 
Sallust, says, this unfortunate captain complained of 
being not only shut up in a gloomy dungeon, but of 
being at the same time, subjected to a cold bath, and 
over this cell the water of the Tiber sometimes rises. 
The exit from these chambers is into a dirty narrow 
court, and as we squeezed ourselves through the con- 
tracted door-way, half a dozen beggar girls snatched 
at the remaining bits of our wax tapers. This accom- 
plished they then began to beg for a little money. 
We are too much accustomed to these ragged troops to 
pay much attention to them, but it was rather amusing 
to see how they persisted in clinging to the legs and 
coat-tail of Mr. Parker. Finally, he drew from his 
pocket a two cent piece, and threw it to the other side 
of the piazza". Of course every girl ran for the penny 
and thus we escaped them. 

On Tuesday morning we went to the studios of 
three American sculptors: Messrs. Ives and Rogers 
and Miss Hosmer. Of course, in a city so filled with 
relics of the days when art had reached its greatest 
perfection, modern workmanship must be severely 
criticised ; but, really, not even among the Vatican 
treasures have I ever enjoyed a day more fully than 
this one among the productions of living men. It is 



366 AMEEICAN SCULPTORS. 

easy to see that the chisel of Eogers or of Ives does 
not cut such beautifully tapering fingers and exquis- 
itely rounded forms as that of the Capitoline Venus ; 
but it is interesting to study out their original designs. 
At Ives' is a little girl who has carelessly tossed her- 
self down upon a rustic seat^ and with her feet 
stretched out, her head thrown back, and the wind 
blowing her curls about her smiling face, she is well 
named " Sans Souci (without care). " The Truant " 
is another wild little lassie, who, instead of going to 
school, has run off to the beach ; and, just now, she 
has forgotten everything else while listening to the 
murmuring of a sea-shell which she holds to her ear. 
A tiny beggar boy holds out his hand, while on his 
face is the long-practiced expression of deep distress. 
At Rogers' that which most captivated my fancy 
was " Nydia," the blind girl in the "Last Days of 
Pompeii." You remember her do you not? that she 
was lost from Glaucus during the thickest darkness? 
Well, she is now searching for him, leaning forward 
that her sensitive ear may detect ever so faint an echo 
of his voice. Her form is slight, and yet her face very 
mature. There is a Euth gleaning in the field, and an 
Isaac bound upon the sacrificial altar waiting calmly 
the stroke of his father's knife, both of which are to be 
at the Philadelphia Exposition. In fact, I am every 
once in a while stumbling upon something which is to 
be taken there. For instance, we were in a cameo store 
the other day, and the man showed us a whole case of 



LETTER FORTY. 367 

designs intended for that purpose. They were shell 
cameos, and he has them in various stages of develop- 
ment. There is first a plain oval cut out of a conch 
shell; second, is the same with the head of a woman 
marked on it with a black pencil, or something; 
thirdly, the first coat of the shell is removed from the 
edge of the oval to the lines of the head; lastly, is all 
complete, that is, the woman is finished in the white 
part of the shell, and stands out in relief upon the 
brown second coat. Stone cameos, more precious 
than shell, are made in the same way, by selecting 
such stones as are white on one side and dark on the 
other, then cutting away all the white except the 
picture desired. I never knew before by what pro- 
cess these ornaments were made, and perhaps, you 
have never seen it. But I must return to the studios. 
You know Miss Hosmer is an American woman of 
about forty-five now. She has been a great many years 
in Rome, and has acquired some note. She was very 
delicate when a child, and as her mother died while 
she was still young, her father let her run wild out of 
doors in order to increase her strength. She was con- 
stantly in some mischief, and when at the age of six- 
teen, played a practical joke on her father. She wrote 
to a Boston paper a notice of his death; and, as he 
was a man of some note, the papers soon came out in 
mourning with comments on his character. This was 
what she wanted, to see what would be said of him after 
his death. This mad-cap trick caused her father to 



368 MISS HOSMER. 

send her to boarding school, where she would have to 
be busy, and learn to behave herself. She finally 
went to a medical school in St. Louis in order to 
study anatomy, for she bad decided to become a 
sculptress. At the close of the term, she took a 
notion to go down the Mississippi to New Orleans. 
On the way, a certain height was pointed out as one 
impossible to climb. 

*'I can climb it," said she instantly, and, at her 
request, the captain stopped the boat to let her make 
the attempt; and, to this day, Hosmer's Heights wear 
the name given by her determined spirit. 

In the city of St. Louis is now one of her most noted 
works the monument of Thomas Benton. I haven't 
time now to write you what we saw in her tastefully ar- 
ranged studio, fori must close. We have met with no 
adventure here which need make you uneasy. Miss 
Shaw, from Virginia, goes with us all the time. She 
is very, very intelligent, and claims to be much older 
than either of us. She styles herself our protectress, 
and her gray hairs fit her for the office. She is econ- 
omical, too, and that suits us and our purses. It will 
not be long now till time to return home, and with so 
many things to learn each day, it will seem even shorter 
than the reality. Write soon again to your daughter, 

EUDORA. 



LETTEE FORTY-ONE. S69 



LETTER XLI. 



KoME, February 10, 1876. 
Dear Brother Graham : 

I RE our letters from Rome disappointing you ? 

:Are you expecting to hear of moonlight visits to 
the Colosseum ; of sunset views from Monte Pincio ; 
of high masses at St. Peters? In short, do you ex- 
pect us to attempt in five or six letters, a description of 
Rome? We have been here five weeks, and have worked 
every day except three, when an oppressive Sirocco, 
laden with rain kept us in doors. If professional tour- 
ists can, in one week, introduce their parties to subter- 
ranean, unburied and later-day Rome, you may be 
sure we are, by this time, somewhat acquainted with 
its wonders. In fact, we have dived into gloomy 
depths, scrambled over broken ruins aud wandered 
through palatial halls, till the word " limitless " is quite 
as definite as any description we could give of what we 
have seen. Perhaps by restricting myself to one little 
excursion, I can give you an idea of the confused host 
of associations which spring up at every step. 

It was last Friday we raised our courage to the point 
of planning for the day a drive of some miles out the 
Appian Way. You may not understand why there 
should be need of courage; but if you had seen us 

24 



370 APPIAN WAY. 

that morning taking off rings, watches, breast-pins, 
and necklaces, yoii might have guessed the nature of 
our anticipated danger. You might have recalled the 
fact that less than a year ago four American ladies 
were politely relieved of all such valuables, as they 
were reviewing the road by which the Apostle Paul en- 
tered Eome, Mon. L. advised us to retain a few extra 
francs in our purses, lest we should insult the expected 
brigand. You may be sure Kate and I were not 
going alone. " The coffee-pot woman " was to accom- 
pany us, and we thought her voice might terrify an 
ordinary highwayman. We had additional reasons for 
feeling secure under the protection of Miss Shaw, who 
has been with us ever since we left Florence. A few 
days before, as she and three other ladies were stand- 
ing in an open piazza, in front of a closed church, one 
of them screamed out: — 
"That fellow has my purse." 

She had felt a hand in her pocket, and turning saw 
the thief making olf with his booty. He was passing 
Miss Shaw, at that instant, when she suddenly pounced 
upon him, pressed him forcibly to the wall and held 
him by the collar till he was glad to relinquish the 
purse. The unexpected attack so unmanned him that 
he made little resistance. Miss Shaw was such a hero- 
ine for two whole days after that, it may be some of 
us were hoping the Appian Way might afford opportu- 
nity for similar display of prowess. At any rate, we 
repaired at an early hour to the Piazza di Spagna in 
order to find a carriage. Now there are scarcely five 



LETTER FORTY-ONE. 371 

minutes in the day but some traveler enters this center 
of the Stranger's Quarter, so it seems half the popula- 
tion of Rome is stationed there to welcome new arriv- 
als. Imagine, then, what a commotion six of us would 
excite by appearing all together upon this square. 
Beggars, peddlers, and coachmen alike felt the mag- 
netic influence, and we were instantly hemmed in by a 
triple line of clamorous mortality. The complaining 
whine of the pauper, the persuasive tone of the orange- 
vender, the harsh grating of crowded wheels, made 
indeed a distracting medley. The beggars wouldn't 
understand that we had left our money at home; ped- 
dlers didn't see why we shouldn't take a few of their 
beautiful cameos and mosaics to please the Appian 
Way banditti ; this coachman would take us for nine- 
teen francs, if that one would for twenty, but each was 
determined to cheat us as much as possible. At last 
we were suited, we found a vehicle large enough for 
five, while the sixth shared the driver's box. We found 
him disposed to chat, and while there was nothing else 
to do we listened. Amons: other thino;s he told us he 
had been a soldier under Garibaldi. 

" Indeed," he said, " the General always drives in 
this very carriage, when he comes out. If you wish 
to visit him, any time, just let me know and I will take 
you out and introduce 3^ou." 

How we regretted that we had, a week before, made 
a formal call upon the " General;" perhaps had we 
been presented by this old friend (!) he might have 
granted us a longer interview. 



372 ANCIENT EUINS. 

Our way led us past the now familiar ruins of the 
Eoman Forum, along the Palatine crowned with rem- 
nants of the Csesars ; beneath the Arch of Titus, orna- 
mented with a relief of the candlestick from Jerusalem ; 
under the Arch of Constantine, enduring witness to his 
triumphs ; over the unmarked spot where stood the 
Porta Capena at which the returning Cicero was met by 
friends. On our right stood out against the sky the 
red, shrub-capped towers into which time has broken 
the thick walls of Caracalla's Baths; on the left a 
winding road leads to the Fountain of Egeria from 
whose waters Numa Pompilius imbibed the wisdom to 
rule his people in peace. 

Once beyond the Portia St. Sebastiano, the thought 
of robbers began again to haunt us. Who could tell 
how many of these dreadful creatures were hidden by 
the walls, which now shut off all view, except where 
here and there, some fragment of a tomb or tall, 
straight cypress rose above it. Suddenly a dark form 
appeared above the obstructing wall — so motionless 
and erect, we thought it made from somber-tinted mar- 
ble, but as we came nearer, the head turned and a low 
whistle greeted our ears. A minute after and we 
heard an answering whistle. For what mischief was 
this the signal? How many besides these two might 
be waiting for it? None, I suppose, for we never saw 
the scarecrow afterwards ; and as we were returning, 
our coachman informed us that there is now no need 
to feel any fear of robbers, for there are guards sta- 



LETTER FORTY-ONE. 373 

tioned at intervals along the way to prevent their de- 
predations. 

After two miles the monotony of stone walls is 
terminated, on the one hand by the ruins of a gothic 
church, on the other by a round structure, resting upon 
a square base and finished at the top with mediaeval bat- 
tlements. With no previous knowledge of its design, 
one would think this simply an ancient fortress. It is 
seventy feet in diameter, and the firm masonry of 
hewn stone which forms the circular portion, is still in 
good repair. The base is a conglomerate of rough 
materials held together by the marvelous Eoman ce- 
ment. Fragments of au ornamental frieze with reliefs 
of garlanded ox-heads, still remain as evidence that 
the whole was once covered with marble. In fact, the 
rest of this precious coating was taken away by Pope 
Urban VIII., and nature, as if to reprove the desecra- 
tion, has furnished another covering of tiny trees, 
light green shrubs, and dark, clinging ivy. The mar- 
ble thus taken was used to build the Fountain of Trevi, 
and over this fountain is an inscription attributing its 
existence to the munificence of Urban. I never knew, 
until I came to Rome, the significance of this term. 
It occurs everywhere, and means that Pope So-and-so 
has despoiled this or that splendid monument of an- 
tiquity to erect an inferior one to his own memory. 
Could the husband of Cecelia Mettella return, and 
behold the state to which Urban has reduced the tomb 
of his wife, I am not sure he would exclaim, " Mun- 



374 ANCIENT TOMBS. 

ificent Holy Father." What would he think of the 
surrounding battlements — what would be his reflec- 
tions, could he enter, as we did, and see the earth 
fallen in till no one can so much as find the niche in 
which the beloved dead was placed, I leave you to ima- 
gine. Perhaps he would be glad to find the sarcopha- 
gus, adorned with struggling Amazons, pursuing 
hunters or struggling racers, even in the long corridor 
of the Vatican. No doubt, as he watched the work- 
men rear the magnificent pile, as he gave freely of his 
means to perfect it, he thought it would stand resplen- 
dant throughout all time. But since the days when 
Crassus built so carefully this proof of devotion to 
the dead Cecelia, there has come the practical age — 
the age in which the sight of anything not intended 
for use has made man restless. The same age which 
treated the Colosseum as a stone-quarry andiron-mine, 
converted into imposing fortresses, the grand tombs of 
the Appian Way. I am sorry these mementoes of 
past history have not been left untouched ; but I sup- 
pose it was necessary to mar them in order that man 
might devise a new and better way to perpetuate his 
name 

But I'll admit we did not tarry long enough at this 
one spot to mature all these reflections. The view 
beyond was too enchanting, as we were now freed from 
the imprisoning walls and, began to realize that we 
were indeed upon the broad Campagna. For miles 
and miles extended the level plain till bounded by the 
far-off blue of the Alban and Sabine Mountains. On 



LETTER FORTr-ONE. 375 

the left, were the long, unvarying lines of arch-sup- 
ported aqueducts, nearer the picturesque ruins of once 
frequented villas, while our road stretched forward in 
a never diverging course though a forest of fantastic 
stone heaps. For four miles we drove along this 
strange avenue^ while, ever and anon, an inscription 
on some shapeless mass would connect it with some 
never-to-be-forgotten name. Here, once rested the 
body of Seneca; beneath those great twin mounds, 
were buried the Horatii, and their antagonists ; and 
finally our carriage halted where centuries ago paused 
the bier with the departed friend of Horace. Cece- 
lia's tomb becomes dwarfed at sight of this. Fifty 
feet of its former height still remain, and the top 
affords room for a farm house with an orchard of six- 
teen flourishing olive trees. We were allowed to have 
a view from this novel farm-yard, and thus take in as 
a whole the road over which we had passed and its con- 
tinuation to Albano. But there is no time for me to 
write, or you to read, further description, lean not 
tell you, how we stopped at the Catacombs of St. 
Calixtus, on our return and wandered through their 
gloomy depths ; I can not mention the curious relics at 
the church of St. Sebastian ; I must pass unnoticed 
the family vault of the Scipios ; even the Columbaria 
where the ashes of Caesar's household are treasured 
up, must be described by another. The only way to 
avoid making my letter too long is to subscribe myself 
immediately. 

EUDOEA. 



376 PLEASANT THOUGHTS. 



LETTER XLII. 



EoME, February 12, 1876. 
Dear Brother South: 

fam too tired to begin a letter to-night ; but I want 
to talk to you at least a few minutes. I have be- 
fore me your last two letters; and, if I answer them 
as they deserve, I shall certainly commit the indiscre- 
tion or writing one of your kind of Jove-letters. In- 
deed you should not tempt me into telling you how 
every day you become more and more a part of 
myself, how it is becoming more and more a habit with 
me to think of my life only as associated with yours. 
I am widely separated from you now, it is true; but 
there is not an hour in the day that I do not think of 
you, and of the influence which the actions of the hour 
must have upon our common future. If I rejoice that 
by this trip to Europe I have found a new world, I re- 
joice the more that I can share its beauties with you. 
If I pluck a flower as a souvenir of some lovely or 
curious spot, I press it with the thought that you shall 
see it, and that the memories awakened by its fragrance 
shall be a pleasure to you, as well. But you say: — 
*'If your thoughts are so often of me, why speak 
of working alone two years longer? '* 



LETTER FORTY-TWO. 377 

You think two years a great while to wait. To be 
candid, I am of the same opinion. It will be harder to 
leave you next fall than it was that day in Cincinnati. 
During these. months of absence I have subjected my- 
self, as well as you, to a trial of faithfulness, and I am 
almost surprised at the result. I have, in a former ex- 
perience, been led to doubt my capacity for unswerving 
attachment ; I feared to say, " I love you," lest, after 
all, there should be a mistake. But I know myself 
better now ; I know the only reason I have changed 
before is because I had not met my other self. You 
are the only man whose influence upon me has always 
been to make me better. You cause me to desire more 
earnestly than ever the suppression of every unworthy 
trait of character. You may be sure, then, that I long 
to be more with you, and that only the force of neces- 
sity has driven me to ask a further separation. Your 
attempted refutation of my argument amounts to 
nothing. I am not taking " ayixious" thought about 
the future. I believe if I do always that which my best 
judgment dictates, and your own reason approves, 
there will be no cause for anxiety. 

Christ does not mean that weare to be improvident, 
but simply that our first thought should be of the 
Kingdom of God. In my planning for our future 
that is my controlling thought. We must be very 
careful to take upon ourselves no responsibilities which 
are likely to hinder us in a good work. If you and I 
had only to make ourselves happy there would be no 
need of tedious delays. Th6 calico and the cottage 



378 RESPONSIBILITIES. 

would be enouo;h for me if I thouo;ht these would af- 
ford me opportunity for doing the greatest good of 
which I am capable. It is usually the case that preach- 
ers are hindered by the difficulties of making a sup- 
port. Then must they be continually anxious about the 
morrow. I want to save you from such a fate. You 
say I am giving you grief, but you will endure it for 
my sake. You are very good, but I will let you 
endure it for your own sake. Now, we understand 
each other : and when we meet in New York we need 
not discuss again the painful subject of the new sepa- 
ration. We will be happy, and take no anxious thought 
for the morrow, trusting that the Good Father may 
reward our every prayerful effort. And, after all, two 
years are not so long; why, two months of it are 
already gone. 

I send you another flower or two for your ' ' well- 
preserved collection," an anemone and some violets. 
They are from the Villa Ludovisi, the beautiful home 
till recently occupied by the wife of Victor Emanuel, 
the Countess Mariefiori. It is most delightful to ram- 
ble at will over these villa grounds beneath the un- 
clouded sun and amid an atmosphere as balmy as 
springtime. We have really seen no winter since com- 
ing to Kome. It tried to snow once, but failed. We 
have nearly finished Eome and have set Wednesday to 
go to Naples. There is an eruption of Vesuvius 
promised for the twentieth ; but many think this is only 
a false report circulated to attract a greater number of 
visitors to Naples. It would be quite a novelty to 



LETTER FORTY-TWO. 379 

witness the outbreak of the great volcano, but we are 
not going for that. It is simply the next thing on our 
programme. 

Monday Night. — You will wonder why this letter 
has not been finished. When I shall have told you 
what we did yesterday, you will cease to wonder. Mr. 
Stevens, an enthusiastic English Baptist, accompanied 
me and Kate first to the American Baptist Church. 
The house in which they meet is directly opposite the 
extensive palace in which Parliament holds its sessions. 
It is a small room on the ground floor, and when we 
entered it was nearly empty. One or two at a time, 
however, dropped quietly in, till there were fifty voices 
in the opening chorus of praise. The leader of the 
singing was evidently a native, and I was much pleased 
with his remarkably earnest face — remarkable, I mean, 
for an Italian. Mr, S. whispered me that this was 
Prof. Cocorda, the regular preacher at the church, and 
that he had himself translated from the English the 
little book of songs from which they were singing. A 
man with light hair and beard, blue eyes and florid 
complexion sat near the tiny pulpit, and he, as I in- 
ferred, was the missionary. After some five or six 
hymns, he arose and began to speak on a subject sug- 
gested by the sentiments of the last: ** In the Arms of 
Jesus." His Italian was rather amusing on account of 
his drawling tone, but I was surprised to find myself 
understanding a great deal of it. He spoke half an 
hour, I suppose, then the singing was resumed. Mr. 
S. says this little speech on Sunday afternoon is all 



380 PROTESTANT CHURCHES. 

the part Dr. Taylor has in the preaching. Prof. Co- 
corda is the regular minister, while Dr. Taylor super- 
intends the school. I was introduced to him after 
services, and learned that he is from Virginia and has 
been here nearly three years. I inquired with what 
success he had met. 

" Oh I a little," he said, " but there are many dis- 
couragements." 

"Yes," spoke up his son, "the Italians are one 
thing to-day and the opposite to-morrow." 

There are twenty regular members of the congrega- 
tion, as the result of two years' work. Dr. T. is sup- 
ported by the Southern Association of Baptists. 
There seems to be no want of money for his work, at 
least he spoke as if he were not troubled by that need. 
My impression is that he is not as spirited a man 
as the English Baptist, Mr. Wall. The latter has 
been here nearly four years and has made a hundred 
converts. Mr. W. does his own preaching, and the 
people hear him eagerly, though his Italian is not ele- 
gant. 

From the Baptist we repaired to the Waldensian 
church, on the Via della Virginia — strange place for 
such bitter opponents of the Immaculate Conception 
Dogma. Their chapel is large enough to seat one 
hundred and fifty. The minister, Mr. Weitzecker, 
has a mixture of Italian and German blood, and 
appears a man of force. Most of those who came in 
before services began were respectably dressed, and, I 
think, were native Waldensians ; for they are a more 



LETTER FORTY-TWO. 381 

sturdy class than the rest of Italians. They have a 
manly, honest, self-respectf ul , independent air, which 
is far from characteristic of the Holy Father's obedient 
children. Throughout the discourse a more shabby 
class of Romans came stamping in, and these, I think, 
were Catholic converts. My opinion is, that the 
membership is principally of those who have come 
down from their mountain shadowed homes since they 
are no longer persecuted. 

At seven p. m. we found ourselves in a little upper 
chamber, in an obscure street, waiting with a small 
number of Italians for another sermon. A hymn was 
sung; a prayer was made by an ordinary-looking man; 
the tenth chapter of Hebrews, from the fifteenth to the 
twenty-fifth verse was read ; and a second song was 
just closed when a never-to-be-forgotten form appeared 
in the door-way at the left of the pulpit. The next 
instant the same form was half concealed by the pulpit ; 
for Gavazzi has a peculiar gliding motion which seems 
to annihilate space. 

Yes, we were going to hear Gavazzi again, right here 
in his own church. I wish I could make you see his 
admirable head with the grayish hair combed straight 
back from the brow; his laughably swollen cheeks; 
his keen eye; his indescribable mouth. Every gesture, 
so unlike those of any one else, proves himself a 
genius, and it would require pages to describe the 
varying curves of his body, arms, fingers, and mouth. 
We listened till his argument for Justification by faith 
was ended, and the benediction was pronounced, when 



382 GAVAZZI. 

we went up and asked the privilege of shaking hands 
with him. He invited us into his little adjoining 
room, spoke of his visit to America in '52, and again 
in '72, and of his intention to come again in July. He 
asked us from what State we were, smiled at us good- 
naturedly, shook hands with us again, and bade us 
good night. Do you wonder now that I did not finish 
this letter yesterday? Eudora. 



LETTER XLin. 



Naples, February, 17, 1876. 

Master AdolpJius Lindsay : 

'OUR long-looked-for letter came at last about a 
week ago ; and, to show you that I appreciate 
the one page you have so neatly written, I will reply 
at once. You shall have the honor of my first letter 
from Naples. Perhaps you think this city is only a 
round black spot on your map of Europe. Well, I 
used to have that opinion of it, but that's all a mis- 
take. Let me help you to form an idea of it. Im- 
agine Glencoe, instead of being only large enough for 
a croquet ground, spread out till our house would be in 
town ; imagine that Eagle, instead of a muddy creek, 
should all at once, become a body of deep blue water. 



LETTEE FOETT-THEEB. 883 

its waters so extensive, that when standing on one 
shore the other would be as far away as the sky. 
Don't make this shore a straight line either, but let 
the waters come into the form of a bent bow, and then 
bring the houses of Glencoe down to the very beach. 
But that is not all . In all Glencoe there are not as 
many people as you see here every three steps. And 
there are not as many kinds of people either. Here 
there are old men with clean faces and decent clothes, 
old men with the dirt of sixty summers upon their skin 
and almost as much upon their clothes ; there are young 
men in the new blue uniforms of soldiers, or broad, 
turned back collars of sailors; there are others whose 
only business is to pick the pocket of careless strangers ; 
there are little boys who never were taught anything 
but to holdout their hands and beg; there are numbers 
of little girls who follow the s;.'me trade. So you see 
you must magnify Glencoe >nsiderably, in order to 
form any idea of the city oi Xaples. But I will tell 
you some of my first impressijns. We arrived here 
yesterday at four in the afternoon. It took us nearly 
all day to come from Rome here. The pink of sunset 
had already died away from the smoke of Vesuvius, so 
the whole top of this famous volcano was hidden in a 
leaden vapor. The bay had changed its sky-tint for 
one almost black, and this made still whiter the wing- 
like sails of the pretty boats upon its surface. We 
were met at the station by Signor Cherubine, a clean- 
looking Italian, who proves to be the husband of the 
German pension-keeper. Under his direction we were 



384 FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 

seated in a little carriage, Miss Shaw and Kate on the 
back seat, while I sat facing them on a seat fastened 
by a hinge to the front. Besides this, the driver and a 
servant of the pension sat on the box. Now, you may 
imagine what a load for one horse — no, not one 
horse, but a half one. " Old Bet " is a dashing steed 
compared with the poor broken-down creature to 
which all this burden was fastened. But Mr. Driver 
cracked the whip gaily, and away bounded the animated 
skeleton. Every second the heartless wretch gave a 
sounding stroke till the blood would have come through 
the tough hide of the beast, had not this fluid been so 
scarce. We didn't understand why he drove so furi- 
ously, till we passed another similarly laden vehicle. 
The horse attached to this was really staggering under 
the lashes of its driver, which were now redoubled, as 
he found himself about to be left behind. Yes; they 
were really racing with these miserable, half-starved 
animals, each one drawing five grown people over a 
street paved with smooth blocks of lava. First one 
was ahead then the other, but at last our rival had to 
give it up. When the excitement of the race was 
over, we began to breathe more freely, but this did 
not greatly increase our comfort; for, with each 
breath, we took in such a mixture of disgusting odors 
that only the emptiness of our stomachs kept us from 
turning sick. These horrid smells came from the 
streets and from the filthy throng of people through 
which we were making our way. After reaching our 
pension, and performing some needed abulations, we 



LETTER FORTY-THREE. " 385 

went out to find a book store, that we might purchase 
a guide. We followed the street along the haj, and 
watched the water which rolls upon the beach as pure 
white foam as if it were not in contact with the dirtiest 
city in Europe. We passed shops filled with beautiful 
jewelry made of coral, tortoise shell, and Vesuvius 
lava ; other shops with windows displaying photographs 
of the lovely views from the hills around Naples. 

Next morning we started out early to visit the great 
museum. I wish you could see the people that we 
saw that morning, indeed that we see every day. We 
were frightened at the black eyes of the Genoese ; but 
I don't know how we would have felt had we come 
first to Naples. As it is, we have become so used to 
the Italians that we can walk coolly through a host of 
them, pushing them good-humoredl}' out of the way, 
if they are crowded upon the pavement. But in 
Naples they are so dirty, one doesn't like to touch 
them; yet touching them can not be avoided, for there 
are four hundred and fifty thousand here on a space 
not more than nine miles in circumference. Besides, 
one must make room for the donkeys. These things 
are not bigger than Newfoundland dogs, but it is won- 
derful to see the load they can carry. Their masters 
put upon their backs a peculiar kind of basket, or 
sack. It is a four cornered piece of straw matting 
about five feet long and four broad; this is sewed 
together at each end and about a foot up the sides, 
thus making at each end of it a kind of catch-all. 
This is put across the donkey's back, both ends are 

25 



386 A STREET SCENE. 

crammed as tight as possible with cabbages, turnips, 
artichokes, or other vegetables, till nothing but legs or 
ears of the ugly beast is left visible. The movements 
of the animal are guided by its tail being moved right 
or left by its master. Dozens and dozens of these are 
to be met coming in any morning. The vegetables on 
top of donkey's back are first sold and then the owner 
takes their place, for he never thinks of letting the 
poor thing rest. They make one donkey draw wagon 
loads of fagots sufficient for two good horses. They 
would fall down under such loads, but their masters 
walk beside them and prop them up. But ragged 
children are more abundant than braying donkeys. 
We had walked scarcely a square when one of these, 
a boy about your size, came in front of us and began 
turning hand-springs for our amusement. He did it 
quite dextrously, but as we hadn't bargained for a 
circus, we didn't see the point when he asked for a 
soldo (a cent). It was about ten when we reached the 
museum, and for five hours we were enabled to forget 
the squalid streets without. I'll not tell you what 
wonderful things we saw there, for I know you are 
more interested in the boys and girls. At three 
o'clock we started back home. When about half way 
one of the many orange sellers, whose baskets of yellow 
fruit brighten every corner, held up three very tempt- 
ino; ones and ofiered them to us for two cents. 

" Here's five for two cents ! " interrupted a boy, 
presenting them as he spoke. 



LETTEE FORTY-THEEE. 387 

"Here are six," cried a third, and in a moment I 
was surrounded by a whole group of these would-be 
sellers, and I was anxious to buy from the most liberal. 

I put my hand in my pocket for my purse, but before 
it was drawn out the boys and girls began fighting over 
their prospects and a number of most frightful looking 
men added themselves to the crowd. I saw in a moment 
what was their interest in the bargain; they wanted a 
chance to seize my purse. With my hands full of 
oranges I would have been at their mercy, but I thought 
of this in time. I tore myself from their midst, and as 
hastily as possible left the pursuing boys and rising 
behind. In another street a single boy was standing 
in a quiet corner, and I thought, " Now's my chance." 
I turned up the side street where I get out my money 
unobserved, then bought two oranges for a cent. One 
man witnessed this, and two squares further on we 
stopped to look at a church when I found this man was 
following us. I turned round and looked him steadily 
in the eye a few minutes ; he saw I understood his 
intentions and left off following me. In fact, Naples 
is full of cowardly pickpockets, but you are in no 
danger, if you are always on your guard. 

Febeuary 20. — I went this morning to leave my 
address at the Consul's, in order that Vachel might find 
us upon his arrival. The Consul kindly took charge of 
it, and said he would give it to my brother. From 
here we went with Miss Shaw to her banker's to 
inquire for letters, and then returned to our pension; 



388 A NEW ARRIVAL., 

for on Sunday we do not go sight-seeing, and there 
was no church convenient. We opened the door which 
leads from the stair-landing into the hall, and what do 
you think met us? A great, black-whiskered fellow, 
who, without a word, threw Lis arms about me, and 
gave me a sounding kiss right in presence of the land- 
lady. You didn't know I had an Italian sweetheart; 
did you? Neither did I ; and I wouldn't have for the 
crown of Italy. The man with big whiskers was not 
an Italian, but a young M. D. from Vienna. He came 
in last night, and only five minutes after I left my 
address at the Consul's, he had called to inquire for it. 
We were rejoiced to see him, and he can now accom- 
pany us on all our expeditions. We expect to go 
to-morrow to Vesuvius, next day to Pompeii, then to 
Sorrento. On Thursday we shall stay in the city to 
see the Carnival, on Friday go again to the museum, 
then Saturday back to Rome. I don't think you need 
be uneasy; Vesuvius seeihs perfectly calm. V. has 
just gone out to hunt up one of his Vienna friends, 
who is at a hotel in the city. He will write soon. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER FORTY-FOUR. 389 



LETTER XLIV. 



EoME, February 27, 1876. 
Dear Bro. South : 

tWELVE days ago, February 15th, we went to 
the banker's to request that our mail be kept 
by him till further orders, instead of being sent, 
as usual, to onr pension. We were to start next day 
for Naples, and thought the mail would be safer at 
the bank. I knew the interval of ten days, without 
news from home, must seem long ; but I was consoled 
when Mr. Posey handed me a last token in the form of 
an official envelope with the expressive motto: 
" United we stand, divided we fall." The news of 
legislative proceedings found within was quite inter- 
esting. I am sorry Kentucky intends to leave herself 
unmentioned in the great national exposition. A little 
gush of patriotism, once in a century, would hardly 
upset the financial arrangements of any State. 

Well, we took the 9 : 20 train for Naples next morn- 
ing, and, after a tedious journey of seven hours, found 
ourselves in the hands of Neapolitan coachmen. You 
may wonder why I say '* tedious journey," since we 
were passing over new territory ; but no other word de- 
scribe sit so well. To be sare, as we passed the Volsci 
Mountains, and recalled the fact that in their fastnesses 



390 MOUNTAIN SCENERY. 

Catiline found his allies, we tried to think them grand 
and imposing ; but in truth, they are quite tame after 
the Alps. On the other side were the Alban Moun- 
tains whose blue tint makes them charming from a 
distance, but nearer they are merely almost barren 
hills. An antiquated. town is pointed out as the birth- 
place of Cicero, and further on is Velletri where the 
infancy of Csesar Augustus was spent. Beyond, this 
the Campagna accompanies us all the way, and I am 
glad to say, further south its rich soil is made to pro- 
duce a triple crop of mulberries, grapes, and wheat. 
Numbers of men and women were at work preparing it 
with spades. Large orchards of olive trees, too, oc- 
curred, with here and there blooming almonds. I 
thought of the twelfth chapter of Ecclesiastes, which I 
had reread the night before, according to your sugges- 
tion. The bloom is pink, like that of the peach tree 
when it first opens, but soon the flush dies away and the 
beauty of the preacher's comparison becomes evident. 
It is difficult, amidst blooming meadows and orchards, 
to realize that this is midwinter — not midwinter either, 
for the season is almost gone before we have scarcely 
felt its coming. 

I'll not tell you how beautiful seemed the bay as we 
drove along its edge that first evening in Naples, nor 
what new delight the sight of it each day afforded. 
Kate's letter to the Times will give you an idea 
of what drawbacks there are to the enjoyment of 
Naples and its suburbs. In fact, after an excursion to 
Baia over a road along the beach and past picturesque 



LETTEE FOETY-rOUE. 391 

towns, I returned home so full of disgust and con- 
tempt at the degraded mass of humanity with which 
we came in contact, that this feeling far outweighed 
the pleasure. Our trip to Vesuvius was another of 
the same nature. We went the night before to the 
" Bureau for Decent Carriages " in order to engage a 
vehicle for the next day. There is a nice public con- 
veyance which charges seven francs for each passenger, 
so we determined to pay no more than that for a car- 
riage. We were directed to No. 50, Via della Pace, 
where we found, not a livery stable, but a drug store. 
The lazy-looking druggist bade us sit down till he could 
call some one. After ten minutes a forlorn specimen 
of a Neapoliton woman made her appearance, and to 
her we applied for the carriage. 

" Haw much will that cost ! '■' asked Miss S. 

" Thirty francs, and five for the driver," was the 
moderate response. 

"No, no," answered Miss S., "we'll give you 
twenty." 

The woman shrugged her shoulders with an air of 
contempt, and the same emotion was expressed by the 
mockino; lauo-h of half a dozen vao;abond men who had 
dropped in to witness the transaction. We were in no 
wise daunted by the cowardly creatures, but finally 
raised our offer to the intended twenty-five. 

"No, thirty," persisted the woman. 

At this we turned and left with the intention to go 
rather in the public brake. 

"Let's make one more effort," I suggested as we 



392 LAVA FIELDS. 

reached the corner of the next block. " Let's inquire 
where to find another bureau." 

We were then in front of a brightly-lighted picture 
store, and the gentlemanly dealer offered to send his 
servant to show us the way. 

"Madam! Madam!" called a voice behind us, as 
we turned to follow, "you may have it for twenty- 
five." 

This shows you how honorable, how full of self- 
respect Neapolitan business men are. They found we 
were determined not to be imposed upon, so they con- 
cluded to be reasonable in their demands. 

The carriage came at eight next morning, and found 
us ready to start. Kate has told you how we were 
beset by beggars at every place on the way in Portici, 
the summer resort of Neapolitan aristocracy ; 'in Torre 
del Greco, where we passed through avenues of maca- 
roni ; at Resina, whose foundations are the roofs of 
buried Herculaneum. At this last place we had to 
engage a guide and horse, the former for the party, 
the latter for Kate to ride from the Observatory to the 
foot of the cone. They insisted that we should take 
a horse for each, but we declined ; so our guide 
mounted the box with the driver, and our journey was 
resumed. 

"We now entered the lava fields of '59, adjoining 
which are those of '68. To describe the great black 
masses of the slowly cooled matter is impossible. No 
one can imagine the fantastic shapes it has assumed ; 
scorpions, serpents, human skeletons, forms of name- 



LETTER FORTY-FOUR. 393 

less hideousness, appear in confused, constantly- 
repeated groups. Through it a good mountain road 
has been cut, and much of the lava is quarried into 
paving stones for Rome and Naples. Our three horses 
were allowed to move quite leisurely up this gradual 
ascent, so it was nearly twelve when we reached the 
Observatory. From here there were visible, not only 
Resina, with the two fields of lava we had passed, but, 
northeast, the white village of San Sebastiano with the 
dark track of the last eruption ('72) through its midst. 
Our carriage stopped at the Hermitage, a low building 
made from rough blocks of lava, then covered with 
plaster. In fact, nearly all the little huts clinging to 
the side of Vesuvius are made of this same material. 
The Observatory is a neat villa situated upon a little 
knoll in the midst of flowers. It is like an oasis amid 
the desolation. Prof . Palmieri resides here to watch 
the moods of the frightful volcano. The seismograph, 
an instrument of his invention, is said to foretell erup- 
tions ; but the reliability of its prophecies may be 
questioned, for he has set one or two dates now past 
for the day of wrath. It was to have been on the 
20th, but on the 22nd we heard no premonitory 
rumblings. 

We didn't tarry long at the Hermitage. Kate 
mounted her horse, gave him a stroke with the stick 
bought at Resina ; we followed at a slow pace, con- 
gratulating ourselves to escape so easily from the 
noisy group of guides assembled around the door. A 
marble slab near the first turn in the road gave us 



394 THE ASCENT. 

reason for a little serious thought. It was in memory 
of eight students who, in 1872, went to the base of the 
cone to witness the outpouring flames,' when the earth 
suddenly opened and swallowed them up. We told 
ourselves that these youths had done a presumptuous 
thing, and that Providence does not take care of the 
presumptuous ; but were we not also going presumptu- 
ously into danger? 

But we were not alone. Numbers of others were on 
the way with us. One gentleman was with two ladies 
who pronounced us quite brave to think of making the 
whole ascent. The gentleman had already been to the 
crater some years before, and had no desire to make a 
second visit. He was an American, I think, and 
seemed quite willing to converse, but they walked too 
slowly for us. As we left them we were passed by a 
lady on horseback. She was rather an amusing spec- 
tacle. Three men were hanging on to her horse's tail, 
and urging it on at every step. They were running 
and the horse trotting, while she was jolted up and 
down till only the pommel saved her from falling off. 
We laughed, of course, since we were free from such 
vexation. There was one boy at the tail of Kate's 
horse ; but as we would not walk fast there was no 
use for our guide to hurry it into a gallop. This is a 
common trick of theirs, to rush people along till they 
are out of breath and thus unable to go up the cone 
unassisted. We were a whole hour on this part of the 
road, so, by the time we had seated ourselves for a few 
minutes' rest at the base, the poor woman who had 



LETTER FORTY-rOUR. 395 

ridden so furiously was half way up. There were four 
men dragging and pushing her without mercy. We 
ate an orange, waited to feel perfectly fresh again, 
then declared ourselves ready to begin. I must admit 
the path looked rather formidable, and the first few 
steps were, by no means, reassuring. Each foot sank 
deep into the disintegrated lava, and the effort of draw- 
ing it out was rewarded by very slight advance. Three 
fellows, each with a leather strap over his shoulder, were 
beside us and offered to assist, while our guide hurried 
on ahead. We called to him to halt, but he heeded on- 
ly after Brother's tones became threatening. We re- 
minded him that he had promised to assist Kate with 
a strap. 

" I ! " he exclaimed with assumed astonishment. 
" 1 am the guide." 

"Yes, he's the guide," chimed in one of the others, 
offering his strap again. 

For some time our gentleman guide stoutly re- 
sented the thought of his wearing a strap, but we told 
him if he did not, we would take the cost of another 
man out of his wages. He cooled down at this propo- 
sition, and gave his arm to Kate. But the others 
were not yet in despair, for there were two ladies 
unprovided with help. 

"It's impossible, madam,'* insisted one as I set 
my stick in the sand and proceeded alone. I told him 
I was not tired. 

" This is only the commencement, ' was his rejoinder 
and he walked on quietly. Every two or three min- 



396 ON THE BRINK. 

utes he would inquire about my fatigue, and it was 
quite a satisfaction to assure him that I was perfectly 
fresh. He sat down at last and called after me: — 

*' Voulez-vous? " (will you) 

" Yes," I replied, " I will walk." 

We rested often and ate oranges to quench our 
thirst. At the half-way place we were presented a 
more substantial quencher of thirst. It was a bottle 
of " Lahrymse Christi," the famous product of the 
Vesuvian vineyards. We didn't buy, for we felt, 
more than usual, the need of a steady head. The 
beautiful white steam was rising in volumes above us, 
as a favorable wind kept it from enveloping us. 
Gradually we approached the source of this vapor, and 
at last stood upon the very brink of the horrid chasm. 
Here we burned our sticks by thrusting them into a 
hole in the rock. We watched the depths till the cloud 
of steam parted, and we could see the flame* them- 
selves, and their reflection on the dark crater walls. 
We were not the only party standing upon this dan- 
gerous ground, for several ladies and gentlemen, after 
having been carried up in sedan chairs resting on the 
shoulders of four men, were safely deposited beside 
us. 

I'll not attempt to describe the view, nor yet the de- 
scent. It was fun, though, to bound along at such a 
rapid rate as we did in going down. We went straight 
down the steepest part, spending eighteen minutes 
from top to bottom, though the ascent had occupied 
more than an hour. It was very amusing to meet those 



LETTER FORTY-FIVE. 397 

now coming up ; one man being assisted by three, 
others comfortably seated in chairs with umbrellas 
over them. Miss Shaw and I felt rather proud of our 
eat, for we were the only ladies who had gone up un- 
assisted. We were somewhat fatigued, and our faces 
were so sunburnt they were really painful. By next 
morninsr the redness of the sunburn had changed 
to brown, so you may expect to see me in June with a 
regular Italian complexion. Just when you will see 
me I can not yet inform you. Vachel is getting impa- 
tient to return ; but there is much Kate and I still wish 
to learn. It may be my last trip to Europe, and I want 
to make as much of it as possible; but it will be a 
happy day when we embark for America. Address us 
in care of American Consul, Paris, and that as soon as 
you can. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER XLV. 



EoME, February 29, 1876. 
Dear Brother Graham : 

tHIS is the last and grand day of the Carnival — 
^^ to-day the Roman populace enjoy the last surfeit- 
ing of fun and flesh which is to prepare them for the 
ensuing forty days Lent. The fast, they say, is in 



398 A GRAND CARNIVAL. 

imitation of our Lord's six weeks in the wilderness; 
I suppose the sprinkling with confetti is in remem- 
brance of His previous baptism ! If one can judge 
from the weather, *' Providence smiles " upon such ap- 
plication of Scripture. It is so enticingly bright and 
warm, that only the rare privilege of writing to you 
on the twenty-ninth of February could restrain me 
from venturing upon the crowded street. Perhaps, 
too, a little experience in Naples has made me less 
anxious for a second presentation to King Carnival. 
We staid a whole day longer than necessary, simply 
for the sake of witnessing the grand display promised 
for Thursday. The wife of the King, they said, had 
contributed four hundred dollars towards defraying 
expenses, and they had been for weeks at work on the 
temporary boxes in the two main piazzas. One must 
pay twenty-five francs for the use of one of these 
boxes, but, luckily for us, the procession was to pass 
our boarding house. At three o'clock in the afternoon 
we were all assembled in the commodious balconies 
overlooking the bay ; but we heeded not the blue wa- 
ters except to remark that if they continued so ruffled 
by the gale, the boat could not go to Capri to-morrow. 
Not even Vesuvius was favored with a glance, for we 
were all absorbed in expectation. Every eye was fixed 
upon the irregular wall of the Palazzo Falcone, which 
hid from us the Via S. Lucia. Suddenly a crimson 
and white turban, a loose, flowing mantle and a dark 
bearded face appeared around the corner ; then another 
and another, till the foremost man was just beneath 



liETTEE FORTY-FIVE. 399 

our window. It needed no programme to tell us these 
tVenty sedate Turkish horsemen were the advance 
guard for some distinguished personage yet to appear. 
Almost instantly a train of ungainly camels came into 
view. The one in front was bearing the Emir, while 
the rest were laden with his possessions. His excel- 
lency kept up a continual bowing to the accompanying 
crowd of dirty urchins; but I think this was rather 
due to the movements of his oriental steed. The little 
pavilion with which he was covered rocked to and fro 
like the sails of a ship when riding the waves. The 
camels never once varied their slow, rolling gait in 
consequence of the music in their rear. This music 
was made by a band on foot whose robes of crimson, 
green and purple might have been really of Eastern 
dye. 

"Those Turks were well gotten up," was Miss 
Shaw's comment, as the sound of their horns died 
away, " but I wonder if this is all? " 

We had been an hour waiting for the procession, and 
now these sham Turks had come and gone in less time 
than it has taken me to tell it. Was this the whole 
result of the great preparation which had thrown Na- 
ples into such commotion for a month past? It could 
not be. We would sit on the balcony a little longer. 
Much good it did us. At the end of a quarter of an 
hour we pronounced the Carnival a humbug, and de- 
cided to go shopping. Now, in Naples no one can well 
go anywhere without crossing the Via Roma, the long 
street which joins the Royal Palace near the bay with 



400 A NARROW ESCAPE. 

that of Capodimonte. This thoroughfare, like the 
Corso in Rome, is always crowded, so we were not sur- 
prised to find it unusually so on a holiday. We did 
wonder though why those dozen gentlemen in Scotch 
caps still had baskets of fresh bouquets in their wag- 
ons. They should have all been disposed of before the 
fun was over. 

Many carriages of people were waiting in the Piazza 
Ferdinando — for what I could not conjecture. At 
each step locomotion became more difficult. We 
looked up the street and on either side saw long lines 
of balconies filled with grinning masks and smiling 
faces. We were just under the windows of theEoyal 
Palace, where the soldiers were displaying their new 
uniforms to the admiring passers-by. 

" They surely intend to amuse themselves some 
other way yet," said Miss S., looking back uneasily as 
we became hemmed in by the crowd. 

By dint of strenuous pushing we reached the corner 
opposite the entrance to Via S. Carlo, on which street 
were the shops we were aiming to reach. We had 
only to cross the street now, or rather two streets, for 
at this point a line of carriages from the Chaia further 
intercepted our progress. A gens d'arms came to our 
rescue, stopping the vehicles till we could pass. We 
beo-an to hope now that we could reach the other side 
of the piazza. Miss S. was in front opening the way 
for us smaller specimens of humanity, when the sudden 
clatter of horse's feet drove us, with the parting 
crowd, back upon the pavernent. We barely escaped 



LETTER FORTY-FIVE. 401 

being trampled under those steel-clad hoofs, but we 
had no time to tremble at past danger. The horsemen 
were speedily followed by a carriage which remained 
stationary in front of us. What magnetic power was 
there about that plain turnout ? The mass of people in 
advance turned back, those following pressed nearer 
and nearer, the two opposite streams from the S. Carlo 
and the Chaia poured in unceasingly, and there were 
we as breakers in the midst of this quadruple wave. 
Bouquets began to be showered down from the over- 
hanging balconies upon the occupants of that attractive 
carriage. If we were being crushed we must see what 
special grace was drawing this marked attention. 
Was it a tribute to the remarkable beauty of some 
Italian princess, or what did it mean? 

*' Beauty I far from it I " was our mental ejaculation 
as we watched the flight of a bunch of flowers from a 
fair hand in the balcony to the face of the individual 
at whom it was aimed. 

Instead of the pale, clear, olive cheek of an Italian 
belle, it was the great, bloated, red jaw of Italy's 
homeliest son, which thus arrested the flight of the 
flowers. I wondered that they did not catch and re- 
main hanging upon the stiff mustache which was 
fiercely curled half way up to his eyes. We could not 
fail to recognize the face. Having once seen the mar- 
velous ugliness of Victor Emanuel's photographed 
features, one could never mistake him for any other 
human being. We had been longing for a glimpse of 
the King, but like many another longing, its gratifica- 



402 VICTOR EMANUEL. 

tion did not bring us happiness. Indeed, had his head 
been endowed with the power, as well as the ugliness 
of the Medusa's, and thus chaDged us into stone, we 
might have felt more comfortable. As it was we could 
not resist the consciousness that we were in imminent 
dano;er of being crushed to death. 

Women and children were crying all around us with 
fright and pain ; it was -with difficulty I kept my feet ; 
I never felt so near to the unwashed Neapolitans. Two 
children, a boy with his hair sheared close to his dirty 
scalp, and a girl whose matted locks had not been 
combed for six months, had taken refuge in my arms. 
They were tall enough to press their faces against my 
breast, and they seemed so thankful for the protection 
I could not find it in my heart to push them rudely away. 
There were foolish mothers there with young babes 
whose screams added to the general tumult. I felt that 
I could not fight for my ground much longer ; I saw no 
prospect for relief unless the King would drive on ; 
but the supply of bouquets seemed inexhaustible and 
he seemed determined to wait for the last one. Sud- 
denly a new movement became perceptible in the 
crowd; turning, I discovered they were making for 
the large, open door of a cafe. Leaving my two 
charges to take care of themselves, I joined in this 
movement, but the hope of relief proved a new delu- 
sion. A fierce man stood in the doorway and repelled 
the crowd with blows and threats. Elegant cafes are 
not the places where beggars are welcome. The women 
and children cried anew, but that had no effect upon 



LETTER FORTY-FIVE. 403 

the door-keeper. He did look frightful in his anger, 
but I was more afraid of the thronging hundreds than 
of this man's two clean fists. I didn't believe he 
would strike me, so I pushed forward and entered the 
doorway. He knew I hadn't the appearance of either 
a beggar or a thief, so he let me enter ; and as soon as 
he could close the door upon the rest, and politely gave 
me a chair. I found Miss S. had met with the same 
good fortune, but brother and Kate were still outside. 
I saw them through the glass door and beckoned to theni. 
The porter, who was now in a good humor, opened the 
door for them, and we were at last all safe. I never 
felt so thankful for a deliverance. In our gratitude 
we ordered twice as much ice cream as we could eat, 
that we might repay the keeper of the restaurant for 
affording us a refuge. But we began now to feel a 
less melancholy interest in the Carnival. The King 
had finally passed on, and other carriages, wagons, 
and cars were moving by deliberately. 

My letter would be too long if I should attempt to 
reproduce the shifting scene which occupied us till six 
o'clock, and was still displaying new features when we 
left the shelter of our cafL 

EUDORA. 



404 THE CARNIVAL. 



LETTER XLYI. 



Rome, March 1, 1876. 
Dear Brother Elijah : 

EY letter to President became so long I had to 
leave unfinished the subject of the Carnival. 
From our safe retreat in the caje, we could look out 
with pleasure upon the moving populace. All tears 
were dried, and everybody seemed bent on having a 
good time. In front of us was a carriage filled with a 
party of handsome young men in the white caps, loose 
white blouses, and long white aprons of cooks. They 
were throwing bouquets at the young ladies in the 
blacony over our heads. They thus amused, not only 
themselves, but the crowd on the pavement below the 
balcony ; for half their bright missiles failed to reach 
their destination. Boys, girls, men, women, and 
babies watched for the coming of each ill-aimed bunch 
and as it lingered a moment in the air above, you should 
have seen the display of dirty hands and dirty upturned 
faces. If no one caught it and it fell to the ground, 
there was a wonderful scramble in the dirt for its 
possession. The crowd had a use for these stray bou- 
quets. Already a few stove-pipe hats had the audac- 
ity to make their appearance. Woe to their wearers I 
Whether they were coachmen or gentlemen it was all 



LETTEE FOETY-SIX. 405 

the same. One bouquet after another flew into the 
direction of the unfortunate plug till it could hardly 
maintain its equilibrium. If the owner of the plug 
took the assault good-naturedly, he did not fare so 
badly, but woe to the one who dared to grow impa- 
tient ! It was very childish sport to entertain the 
whole populace ; but the majority of Neapolitans are 
little less than overgrown children. 

The gentlemen cooks finally concluded to save the 
rest of their ammunition for some other balcony, and 
so drove on. Their place was quickly filled by another 
great wagon load of young Scotchmen with a fresh sup- 
ply of bouquets and candy-kisses to throw among the 
crowd. The sound of music now became added to that 
of laughter and shouting, and a little boy who was with 
us at the window cried out : — 

" Oh ma, there comes such a pretty car." 
Sure enough , it was. The whole band were in masks, 
and their car was adorned with various devices, among 
others, a great gilt horse balanced upon his hind legs 
as if startkd by the music. Many masks on foot were 
also passing now; his satanic majesty, with his hideous 
black face, appearing beneath his red horns; men with 
donkey's heads, or heads of roosters ; there passed in a 
carriage one whose head was an immense oyster or 
mussel shell, the opening answering for a mouth. 
But the grotesque costumes were too numerous for 
description. One of the prettiest things was the 
" Triumph of Bacchus." You know he is the god of 
wine. Well, he was appropriately crowned with a 



406 " TRIUMPH OF BACCHUS. '* 

wreath of grapes with leaves and all upon the vine. 
His car was drawn by six horses. He rode one of the 
middle pair while two satyrs guided the other two. 
Satyrs are creatures with bodies of men and legs of 
goats. They were always friends of Bacchus, so they 
ought to take part in his triumphs. But the car itself 
was the prettiest part. On the front of it was a 
fountain, or rather the imitation of a fountain. What 
seemed unbroken jets of water was really beads of 
clear glass strung on wire. Back of this fountain 
stood a great rose tree and among its branches was a 
little child as beautiful as the cupids of the great paint- 
ers. We were two hours or more watching this shift- 
ing scene when the carriage of the King returned. It 
was a beautiful sight for it was literally filled with 
exquisite bouquets. He had been the whole length of 
the Via Roma, and from every balcony a shower of 
flowers had been rained upon him. He looked uglier 
than ever by contrast. So much for the Carnival at 
Naples, February 24th. 

Ycisterday the people here were having their last 
good time before Lent. You know Lent lasts forty 
days, and during that time every Catholic must fast 
often, pray much, and indulge in none of his wonted 
amusements. The word Carnival means, " Flesh, 
farewell," by which they mean, I suppose, not only 
farewell to the eating of meat, but to all carnal indul- 
gence. I suppose the only way they could endure to 
be good so long is to have this mad carnival prepara- 
tion. There was only throwing of bouquets in Naples 



LETTER FORTY-SIX. 407 

on Thursday ; but, on the Sunday previous, their mis- 
siles had been less romantic. To every balcony there 
were fastened tin boxes large enough to hold a half 
bushel of lime. They call it confetti^ which means 
sugar-plums, but instead of sugar-plums, there are 
only these little hard lumps of lime. The parties in 
the balconies are furnished with long handled dippers, 
and these they ply busily, shoveling the miserable 
stuff on the heads of those below, or into the faces of 
those in a neighboring balcony. This is very danger- 
ous to the eyes, but it was a good thing for Naples. 
It cleansed the filthy streets, and took off one or two 
coats of dirt for each vagabond. I did not venture 
out that day, but I had my information from an eye- 
witness. 

All the time I was writing to President yesterday, I 
heard gay crowds passing the windows, and as often 
as I looked out, there were numbers of masks to be 
seen. Miss Shaw and Kate had hired places in a bal- 
cony on the Corso, and I knew they were, seeing all the 
fun. I didn't want to see it so much as to spend any 
money for the purpose ; but, as the hour for the horse 
race approached, I asked Brother to go down to the 
Corso with me, that, if the crowd were not too dense, 
we might see something from the pavement. We 
found it quite different from Naples — not half such a 
throng. We had a comfortable place in a door-way, 
till the cannon fired a signal to clear the way for the 
horses. At the moment of firing, the middle of the 
street was filled with carriages ; but gradually, these 



408 THE COESO, 

all withdrew into side streets, while a double line of 
soldiers marched down and stationed themselves as a 
wall between the people, and the cleared part of the 
way. I had a place immediately behind one of these 
fellows, and I was determined in case of danger, to 
seize him by the back of his loose blue overcoat. Then 
we stood waiting for the race. Several young men 
near us whiled away the interval of waiting by playing 
tricks upon each other. One of them had a bouquet, 
and every few moments would give the other a stroke 
on the back of his head, then would look so innocent 
that his companion supposed himself attacked from 
the balcony. In short, boys in Italy are as much 
inclined to tease each other as are boys in America. 

But the cannon was again fired, and this time it 
meant, "The horses are coming.'* The Corso is 
about a mile in length, and we were near the center, 
so there were still two minutes of suspense, when the 
poor frightened creatures rushed past us. They had 
no riders, but there are spurs so arranged that at each 
step they are goaded on to renewed efforts. Victor 
Emanuel is fond of horses, and it is said he went to 
Naples to avoid seeing his favorite animal thus cruelly 
treated. I could not see their suffering, for they were 
come and gone like a flash. They are stopped at the 
other end of the street by strips of canvas stretched 
across. I do not see why a populace should delight in 
such an amusement, but there may be private betting 
done to give it interest. There are also lotteries car- 



LETTER FORTY-SIX. 409 

ried on during Carnival, and great stories circulated 
about what this or that man gains. 

It was nearly dusk when the race was over, dark 
enough for the next sport to begin. All the after- 
noon, boys had been passing through the crowds with 
hands full of little tapers. ^^ Maccolil maccoU/** 
they would shout, till stopped for a moment by a pur- 
chaser. We had heard much of the maccoli^ and that 
was the part we were anxious to see. Soon people in 
the balconies began lighting these tapers. There was 
story upon story of these balconies, and as those on 
the topmost held out their long waxen maccoli, they 
looked like so many stars in the blue sky ; for it was 
only the burning end that was visible. But the fun 
was all below. As soon as a taper was lighted, every 
one within reach began trying to put it out. Hand- 
kerchiefs were fastened to long sticks, and with these 
the lights were whipped out. Some one else would 
o:ffer his to relight the extinguished one, when down 
would come a handkerchief and surprise both. Car- 
riages began now to pass again, and their occupants 
too were provided with lights. Sometimes in their 
eagerness to save their lights, they would stand on 
tip toe and hold them high above their heads, then 
often an unexpected bouquet would be hurled at just 
the right angle to extinguish the light without further 
injury to the taper. All up street and down, this 
lighting and extinguishing of maccoli was in progress, 
and, at intervals chemical lights were added. ^ From 



410 THE MACCOLI. 

these a rosy cloud, filled with glowing stars, ascended, 
and made the whole scene like fairy-land. Among 
the carriages, now and then, came more of those fancy 
cars. One of these was filled with young ladies in the 
costume of French soldiers of the time of Louis, — 
their coats of blue, edged with white ermine, and 
their three-cornered hats trimmed the same way. In 
their car was a huge cannon, which seemed every few 
rods to belch forth part of its contents. But what 
drew the prize of five hundred francs was a great mul- 
berry tree with men disguised as monkeys perched 
upon its limbs. They frisked about and leaped from 
bough to bough as if they were the real denizens of 
the forest. Altogether, it was a wild scene of merri- 
ment, and one I shall never forget. It lasted until 
midnight, when King Carnival was burnt, and his spirit 
sent aloft in a balloon to wait till called for next year. 
It is said the Carnival is nothing now to what it once 
was, and it is for want of such shows that the people 
complain of the present government. They cry out 
against the taxes, and yet are willing to have their 
money wasted in such nonsense. 

EUDORA, 



LETTER rOKTr-SEVEN. 411 



LETTER XYLIL 



Florence, March 4, 1876. 
Dear Eugene : 

OUE letter did hold out to reach Eome, and I 
only regret you did not cover both sides of the 
paper. I intend to write on every page of this sheet 
to tell you of our farewell to Rome. Your warning 
about climbing Vesuvius came too lute ; we had already 
made the ascent in safety to the crater, and then rolled 
down again in eighteen minutes. We went not only to 
the volcano, but also to the famous ruins of Pompeii. 
Indeed we went to the latter place first, and so far 
from Vesuvius does it seem that it is difficult to believe 
it owes its overthrow to an eruption. When, how- 
ever, we made the ascent, and looked down upon the 
immense black fields of lava, I began to realize the 
nature of the power beneath the cone-shaped mass. 

The guide at Pompeii explained to us the successive 
stages in that eruption of eighteen hundred years ago. 
First, came a hailstorm, as it were, of whitish pumice 
stones mixed with harder, darker particles ; then, the 
lava burst forth from the irregular sides of the crater, 
and ran down the mountain till it was checked by 
growing cool. This part did not reach Pompeii, but 
it covered Herculaneum so closely that it is even 



412 POMPEH. 

now entered like a cave. After the flood of lava came 
a final shower of ashes, which brought utter destruc- 
tion to Pompeii. But I refer you to Bulwer's " Last 
Days of Pompeii" f©r a vivid description of the 
scene. 

One of the awfulest things in the museum at Pom- 
peii is a collection of some half dozen bodies in the 
position in which death overtook them, as they were 
trying to escajDe. I say the bodies, but they are really 
only casts in plaster. Miss Shaw told me how they 
were obtained. Men, in removing the ashes, would 
discover, now and then, a cavity the shape of the body 
and containing, perhaps, a few bones. From this they 
knew some human body must have perished there, and 
they began to watch for these cavities, sounding the 
earth to see if it were hollow. When one was dis- 
covered a sufficient opening was made from above to 
pour in plaster to fill the cavity, which was left to 
to harden and then dug out. Thus the very expression 
of the death agony is obtained. One of them is an 
old man who alone has an appearance of calmness. 
He lies on his breast with his head resting on his left 
arm as if he were asleep. 

We left Naples on Thursday night at eleven o'clock, 
and, of course had to travel till day. It was but little 
after six when we surprised Madam Lavigne by ring- 
ing for her to let us in. ISebastiano soon had us a cup 
of coffee, and we were ready for a day's work. We 
had before us the task of showing to Yachel in eight 
days what we had spent six weeks in seeing. It kept 



LETTER FORTY- SEVEN. 413 

US going, but he pronounces us pretty good guides. I 
have bought a great many pictures of the places we 
have seen, and I anticipate much pleasure in showing 
them to you children. By the way, as I was returning 
from a picture store the other day, I was walking rap- 
idly, and in a fit of abstraction I suddenly became con- 
scious that I was very near a carriage wheel. I raised 
my eyes, when a gentleman in the vehicle raised his 
silk hat, as if in recognition. He was the ugliest man I 
ever saw ; his red face was the shape of the full moon ; 
his black moustache was so long and so fiercely curled, 
that only the accompanying goatee could dare to rival 
it; his neck was too stiff and his whole body too stout 
for him to bow gracefully; his eyes — well, the car- 
riage was too soon gone for me to examine every fea- 
ture. Yes; this homeliest of Italians bowed to me, 
and that, too, without an introduction. How did I re- 
ward his presumption? Did I send a policeman after 
him? Did I have Vachel challenge him for a duel? 
No ; I returned the salute with a simple inclination of 
of the head, and went home as briskly as possible to 
relate the circumstance. You should have seen how 
envious Kate and Miss Shaw were of my good luck, as 
they call it. Can you guess who this ugly human was ? 
No, never. Kings are always expected to be hand- 
some ; kings are not expected to notice an obscure 
passer-by. Yet, this was no other than the king of 
United Italy who chose thus to honor myself, " a hand- 
ful of American citizens," as Mark Twain says. After 
all, kings are only men; indeed Victor Emanuel looks 



414 THE COLOSSEUM. 

as common as U. S. Grant, and he is far less hand- 
some. 

Last night we left our pension at half past nine, took 
a carriage and bade the coachman drive us to the Col- 
osseum. The moon was shining beautifully, and we 
grew excited at the thought of a farewell glance by 
moonlight at dear, familiar Rome. (It's more dear 
now that we have left it.) The sparkling and mur- 
muring of water greeted us as we emerged into a large 
piazza, and we knew we were at the Fountain of Trevi. 

" Stop ! " we cried to the coachman, and a moment 
after we were dipping our hands into the clear water 
of the great marble basin, and drinking from our palms. 
Yachel called to us that we must hurry, so, with a 
laugh at our own folly, we threw in a soldo (one cent, 
about), thus fulfilling the legend which says: — 

" If you would be sure to return once more to Rome, 
drink of the Fountain of Trevi, and throw in a coin." 
On went our driver, past the Trajan Forum, the Ro- 
man Forum, the Palace of the Caesars, the Basilica of 
Constantine, under the arch of Titus, and stopped in 
front of the sublime old Colosseum. The impressions 
of that sight I leave for some future telling. All too 
soon we had to tear ourselves away, be driven to the 
station, and by the cars be borne towards other scenes. 

EUDOEA. 



L'ETTER rORTY-EIGHT. 415 



LETTER XLYIII. 



Venice, March 9, 1876. 
Dear Flora: 

'TjK^T'E are out on the ocean," and if some old 
^^^ washerwoman would hang out her clothes on 
the house-top, as they do in Florence, we'd soon be sail- 
ing, at least, that's the impression I receive by looking 
out at the window. "We seem to be right in the water, 
as much so as are the dozen ships riding at anchor be- 
neath us. I think I shall dream, to-night, of going 
home; I shall listen in my sleep for the watchman of the 
Elysiato shout " All's well ! " I have read of Venice, till 
I thought there would be little of novelty in our visit ; 
but you needn't hesitate about reading^ what I shall tell 
you, for no words can hinder one from experiencing a 
new sensation, when he first enters Venice. I caught 
my first glimpse from the car window of one of the 
hundred islands which stands rather aloof from the 
rest. There is a church on it with a high bell-tower, 
so at first the whole thing was like a great Atlantic 
steamer, the tower answering the place of smoke-stack. 
We were on the bridge, in a few minutes — the great- 
est bridge in the world. It is two and a third miles 
long, twenty-eight feet wide, and has two hundred and 
twenty-two arches. It is not high, for it extends from 



416 THE BRIDGE. , 

the low beach of the mainland to that of the nearest 
island. By this bridge the cars pass over the motion- 
less waters of the lagoon, or bay, which separates 
Venice from the continent. Driving thus into the sea 
was rather novel, but we came to a halt in the darkest 
and most unromantic of stations. We could see no 
water anywhere, but had to walk the whole length of 
the station-house and give up our tickets to the waiting 
official in the most commonplace of styles. 

*' Forward," said the man as he bestowed a satisjSed 
glance upon the bits of card-board. We did " for- 
ward " and then and there beheld a whole school of the 
far-tamed gondolas. They are the long, black, slen- 
der beaked affairs which Mark Twain describes, with a 
tiny, hearse-like cabin in the center. And there were 
the gondoliers after us just as bad as the Neapolitan 
carriage drivers. 

"Which hotel. Madam? which hotel?" th'ey per- 
sisted in asking in their way. 

I didn't choose to answer anybody till we were on 
the steps descending into the water. A fellow caught 
his gondola by the nose and led it up for us to get in, 
then I said : 

"Hotel Scharfnagel." 

Now, this hotel I had selected simply on account 
of the name of its proprietor. It is a German 
name meaning Mr. Sharp-nail, and I was anx- 
ious to see what kind of a looking man could have such 
a name. Imagine my distress, then, when our gon- 
dolier couldn't tell where that hotel might be ; he 



LETTEE FORTY-EIGHT. 417 

inquired of a second and, he too, was unacquainted 
with Mr. Scharfnagel. We showed him the name in 
the book; he nodded as if an idea had struck him, 
pushed his boat from the shore, and started; but all 
was not yet well. We were crowded into the little 
black cabin (our heads touched the top while we were 
sitting, and our knees met in the center) when we re- 
membered the caution of our guide-book that we should 
protest against two rowers. V. stuck out his head, 
thus making the discovery that there was a man at 
each end of the small craft ready to lay hold of the 
oars. 

*« Basta uno,^'' (only one) shouted V. at my dictation. 
The two men said something about its being 
necessary to have two ; but we continued the chorus 
of "Basta uno, Basta uno," till the extra hand with- 
drew. Of course, this led to our going much more 
slowly than "the two-manned" vessels but we had 
the pleasure of seeing them pass us. First the steel- 
protected prow would come into view ; then the oar as 
it dashed the spray ; then the head, arms, and lithe 
body of the first oarsman; next, the low buggy-top 
cabin with the eyes of its occupants at the windows; 
lastly the second rower, and we were left behind. An- 
other and another thus appeared and disappeared, the 
oarsmen usually, like our own, coatless and rather 
dirty; but if it were the turnout of some fashionable 
lady, they were dressed in sailor's blouse and pretty 
broad-brimmed hat. To what point our gondolier was 
taking us we didn't know, but, we were too much in- 
27 



418 GRAND CANAL. 

terested in the novelties of the way for uneasiness to 
take much hold. We were first in the Grand Canal which 
we could see from the map was about as straight as 
the letter " S." We dodged along under its bridges, 
wondering whence came the people who were crossing 
them, for to us there were nothing but canals between 
the houses. Suddenly our oarsman uttered a pecu- 
liar cry, and darted round a corner into a very narrow 
passage, and so skillfully did he manage the boat that 
he came within half inch of another without touchino- 
it. We began to feel a little queer; it was so gloomy 
in that narrow place with the houses rising on either 
side from the water high into the air, how high our 
gondola cover did not permit us to see. I can not tell 
how long this lasted, but the next transition found us 
wholly unprepared. From the cramped atmosphere of 
the tiny canal, we passed under a bridge into what ap- 
peared to be the open sea. There was an island on our 
right, and a whole line of houses on the left ; there 
were ships anchored in the green water, and number- 
less gondolas, like our own, plying here and there. 
We felt more anxious than ever, but indulged the 
hope that the gondolier didn't intend to drown us. 
No; he didn't; he soon turned towards the shore, 
gradually drew his bark towards the quay, finally 
made it fast, and bade us step out on the stone 
pavement. We were glad to find so firm a resting- 
place for our feet, but saw no signs of a hotel. He 
picked up our bundles, and carried them a hundred 



LETTER FORTY-EIGHT. 419 

yards or so to a door, in front of which he stopped. I 
inquired; — 

" Is this the Hotel Scharfnagel ? '* 

The fellow muttered something about an interpreter, 
and immediately summoned from above a jolly red- 
faced German. 

*' Are you Mr. Scharfnagel?" I inquired. 

In answer, he burst into a laugh, and exclaimed, 

" Herr Scharfnagel I why he has been in Cairo, 
Egypt, for the last fourteen years. A very nice man 
he was ; but he has a hotel in Cairo now — not Ven- 
ice." 

As we didn't feel inclined to go all the way to 
Egypt in a gondola, we asked to see the rooms of this 
hotel, to which our gondolier had been wise enough to 
bring us. We prefer German hotels to Italian, 
because they are cleaner; to English, because they are 
cheaper. We found this one no exception in these 
particulars, so we expressed our willingness to remain 
at the Sandwirth with its jovial proprietor, Herr Perk- 
hofer. Our window looks out upon the gulf, whose 
broad expanse so disconcerted us, as we were first 
carried into it by our boatman. We have thoroughly 
recovered from our fright now, and have already made 
plans for walking half over the city to-morrow. I 
thought, as we were coming along this afternoon, that 
in order to enjoy a stay among these numberless canals 
I should have to be transformed into a fish; but 
already I am falling in love with the beautiful green 



420 WORKS OF ART. 

water, and feel impatient for to-morrow's coming. 
There are wonderful churches and palaces here — I 
fear curiosity will scarcely let me sleep to-night. 

But I must tell you how we have reached this place. 
We came to Florence on the night of the third, spent 
the next four days in showing V. over the city, then 
took the cars for Bologna. This town you will see on 
your map, is nearly north of Florence. It has a pop- 
ulation of one hundred and nine thousand, and a repu- 
tation for sausage and lap-dogs. The latter are 
scarce now; but, strange to say, there is yet no 
sensible diminution in the quantity of sausage. We 
were really pleased with the quiet cleanliness of the 
place. The streets have broad foot pavements protec- 
ted by arcades. We reached there at noon and drove 
immediately to the Picture Gallery. We found in it 
many mediocre works but there were two gems which 
redeemed the whole. One was the subject so often 
depicted in horrid colors by other artists; but, in the 
hands of Guido Eeni, it is full of poetry. It is the 
" Massacre of the Innocents," that is the slaughter of 
the children of Bethlehem at the command of Herod. 
The fierce soldiers appointed to do the deed are hin- 
dered by no tender emotions ; two infants lie in the 
foreground with the pallor of death on their innocent 
faces, while the mother sits behind them with hands 
elapsed and eyes raised to heaven in the muteness of 
overwhelming grief; further back, upon the left, 
another terrified woman is striving to escape with her 
babe hidden in her breast, but a brutal soldier has 



LETTER FORTY-EIGHT. 421 

caught her by the long flowing hair, thus adding physi- 
cal pain to mental agony ; on the right, a third is turn- 
ing to flee, the sweet face of the babe in her arms full 
of unconscious trust, but terror has paralyzed the 
poor woman, till she can not move. 

The other picture is by Raphael. It is St. Cecelia 
listening to a chorus of angel voices above her in the 
clouds. She has been playing herself; but in listen- 
ing to the heavenly strains, she has let fall her hands, 
in which is an instrument with many pipes. Her head 
is thrown back, and her deep blue eyes raised to 
heaven. There are two figures on each side of her; 
left, St. Paul, his dark face and hair in strong contrast 
with her golden locks; and St. John, almost as young 
and beautiful as herself; right, St. Augustine in gor- 
geous priestly vestments, and Mary Magdalene. St. 
Cecelia has the only pair of blues eyes given by 
Raphael to any of his characters, and these are so deep 
Kate contends that they are brown. 

From the Academy, we went to the hotel, passing 
on our way, the two leaning towers of Bologna. They 
do not compare in magnificence with the Leaning 
Tower of Pisa, being built of dingy brick; but they 
are very curious. One of them was built as it is inten- 
tionally; but they had to leave it unfinished, because 
it threatened to fall. 

After securing a room, we went to the Campo Santo, 
more than a mile west of town. It is arranged on the 
same plan as that of Genoa, but it is much larger. 
But my eyes begin to wink rather heavily, so I will 



422 VENICE. 

close that I may get rested for to-morrow's work. I 
shall probably not finish this for several days. 

Pallanza, Lake Maggiore, Maech 19, 1876. — 
You see I have traveled far since the beginning of this 
letter. I didn't expect to finish it until now; but 
thought you would like at least a few lines from Ven- 
ice. It is lovely here this morning. The sun is shin- 
ing on the lake, on whose placid bosom is no trace of 
yesterday's furious storm. The green islands, which 
it lashed so mercilessly twelve hours ago, the waves now 
are caressing gently and murmuring to them in gentle 
tones. The storm was grand; I shall never forget its 
wild delight. I do not wonder that the ancients 
thought the waters peopled by gods — it seemed yes- 
terday, as if Neptune were angry to be here shut in by 
great mountains. All his forces were gathered in the 
effort to extend his dominions, and they beat the 
stubborn mountain host into many a retreat. 

But I was writing about Venice, and shall go on 
with that subject. It has a population of one hundred 
and twenty-eight thousand, so you may imagine how 
we had to work to get over it in four days. It was so 
quickly over, and all so strange, that it seems like an 
enchanting dream. We were out early on the morn- 
ing of the tenth, and made our way over the four 
bridges along the broad quay to the Piazzetta. Around 
this and the adjoining large square, are clustered some 
of the most magnificent buildings I have ever seen ; 
the Palace of the Doge, the Cathedral of San Marco, 
the Clock Tower, the King's Palace, the Library, and 



LETTER FORTY-EIGHT. 423 

the Eoyal Mint — all add to the attractions of the spot. 
We took first a general survey from between the two 
granite columns which stand as sentries next the bay. 
They themselves are curious old monoliths, as they 
have stood there seven hundred years. On top of one 
of them is the Lion of St. Mark, the emblem of Venice. 
It has wings like the lion in Ezekiel, and you will find 
the vision in which he represents God as appearing to 
him sustained by an angel, a lion, an ox, and an eagle. 
These are considered types of the four gospel writers ; 
and, for that reason, the Old Masters always paint 
Matthew with an angel hovering over his shoulder, 
Mark with a lion at his feet, Luke with a gentle ox 
beside him, and John with an eagle perched above 
him. Well, the Venetians have always been partial to 
Mark; he is one of their favorite saints; so you see 
his lion everywhere. On the other column is an 
attenuated old fellow standing upon a crocodile — this 
is St. Theodore, another patron of the city. There 
are three tall flagstaffs of cedar wood which stand in 
front of the cathedral. Upon these the flag of Cyprus, 
Candia and Morea, used to hang to indicate their sub- 
jugation to the republic ; but since 1866, it all belongs 
to Victor Emanuel and the flag of Italy on great occasions 
flutters from each. From 697 till 17 — Venice was a 
Eepublic governed by Doges — or rather it was an 
aristocracy ,for the Doge was not chosen, like our 
President, by the vote of the people, but by the vote of 
ten nobles. It was then very powerful, having under 
its dominion many of the adjoining cities of the main- 



424 ** BEIDGE OF SIGHS." 

land as well as every neighboring island ; but, in 1797, 
it became subject to Austria, and since that, has never 
enjoyed but one brief season of independence. In the 
great hall of the palace, there is a row of seventy-six 
portraits of Doges around the ceiling, and among them 
is one spot covered with a black tablet on which is 
stated that this was the place for Marino Falieri ; but 
he was beheaded for crime. We have since learned 
his crime was the attempt to make Venice truly a 
Republic, that is to put down the aristocracy. We 
were afterwards led over the ' ' Bridge of Sighs ' ' from 
the Doge's Palace to the prisons on the other side of 
the canal, and down, down, into the very dungeon in 
which Marino was confined. After lighting us into the 
cell, the guide told us to remain while he took his 
torch outside, that we might feel the thick darkness 
amid which the noble prisoner pined away his 
days. The entrance to this dungeon was so low that 
we had to stoop almost double, and the walls were 
three feet thick. It is a more terrible place than the 
Prison of Chillon, for there the daylight is permitted 
to struggle through the narrow windows, while this is 
entirely under water, with no other opening than this 
low doorway. 

From this darkness we emerged again into the open 
day of the piazza, to encounter there a busy scene. 
There were no beggars, but Venice has its share of 
public nuisances. Dozens of gentleman with " Guide " 
embroidered in gold upon their caps, stand in com- 
manding situations to spy out the approach of every 



LETTER FORTY-EIGHT. 425 

stranger ; then they descend in force upon him with 
volleys of: — • 

" Do you wish a guide? " " Voulez-voiis im guide? " 
'* Wilnchun 8ie einen Fuhrev'i'''' etc. 

There are others who offer for sale " cheap views " 
of the city done up in little red-backed books ; others 
who insist that you buy their shell necklaces, using their 
sole English phrase, " They are very strong, Madam," 
then dropping them on the pavement as proof. They 
do get up an amusing hash of languages — these guides 
and peddlers. As we were entering the low door of 
the prison cell, our old guide cried out, — 

" Mind your ^e^e," using the French word for 
"head." In fact, they mix things up so, that the 
English is often the very part we fail to understand. 
I suppose our Italian is quite as amusing to them; but 
we are often obliged so speak the few words we have 
picked up. Necessity seems to manufacture words, 
and then Italian is the easiest of languages to catch by 
• ear. 

We staid till noon or past in the palace, then took 
a gondola for a trip across to the island of S. Giorgio 
Maggiore. It took only ten minutes to glide across 
the smooth water and enter the church. The priest 
who opened the door for us began to explain the pict- 
ures on the walls and over the chapel altars; but we 
begged to be excused as we proposed ascending the 
tower. The campaniles (bell towers) of Venice are 
different from those we have seen anywhere else : in 
Pisa, the leaning tower is round and ornamented with 



426 THE BELL TOWERS. 

successive circles of pillars; in Florence the great 
tower built by Giotto is square and covered on the 
outside with beautiful patch-work in marble mosaic ; 
in Naples I remember another curious square structure 
which grows somewhat smaller towards the top ; but 
in Venice they are all or nearly all of red brick, square 
till within ten feet of the top when they are finished 
with a pyramid. Well, it was up one of these we 
proposed to climb, and wished to waste no time on the 
commonplace pictures below. There were no steps, 
but simply an inclined plane following the sides of the 
tower within. It was quite dark at first, but we 
emerged into the light upon a platform which marked 
the conclusion of the square part and beginning of the 
pyramid. Then we had all Venice at our feet ; canals, 
palaces, domes, gondolas and all. Far beyond, too, 
on the opposite side appeared the white tops of the 
Tyrolese Alps, and on the other the distant blue of the 
Adriatic. We were quite ready for our good German 
dinner when it came that night — no, not quite ready 
either ; for we were just watching a most glorious 
golden and purple sunset, and were loth to lose a sin- 
gle tint. There was an enthusiastic young German on 
the balcony, too, who was even more inspired than 
we. He pronounced it " hhnmel schon " (beautiful 
as heaven) and such other extravagant expressions. 
He finally came to his dinner, but then his enthusiasm 
took a new turn. The landlady came in and he began 
telling her of his travels. It was evidently the first 
time he was ever away from home and he thought he 



LETTER FORTY-EIGHT. 427 

had come very far. He had come part the way on a 
steamer and had a wonderful experience. He rose to 
his feet to explain by gestures the motion of the boat 
as she rode the mighty waves, but he said : — 

"I stood with folded hands right in the prow, and 
heeded not though the spray kept dashing every mo- 
ment in my face." 

He became quite oratorical and with reluctance let 
his sole auditress, the landlady depart. He couldn't 
stand that long; he got hold of a book, and by way 
of opening a conversation with us, brought it over to 
show us a picture. 

"Are you from Germany? " he inquired. 
*' No, indeed, far from it. We are from America," 
I replied. 

"From America!" and he raised his hands in 
astonishment. He withdrew quietly to his own side of 
the room with the air of one who had unexpectedly 
met more than his match. 

"Have you been to America?" I asked; not for 
information, but for the fun of hearing his humble 
reply. 

"No, I have never been so far." 
This was the last word he spoke till dinner was 
ended, and he was about to leave the room, when he 
raised his hat, made a profound bow, and said to us, — 
" Ich hahe de Ehre^ 

This was the last we saw of him, but we shall 
often recall him as a good type of a German on 
his first tour. He is not twenty miles from his 



428 ISOLA BELLA. 

native land, till he imagines himself a traveled 
individual, and is surprised to find any one who has 
come from a greater distance. I can not now enter 
into details in regard to the ensuing three days in Yen- 
ice, nor yet the two in Milan. 

We went this afternoon in a little boat over to Isola 
Bella (beautiful isle), the most distant of the Borro- 
mean group, which lie in front of our window. The 
wind had risen again, but we felt no fear though we 
were now on the crest of one wave, then down in the 
valley between it and the next. On our return, one 
of the rowers had his hat blown off ; but he gave the 
naughty wave a stroke with the oar which brought the 
truant back. The island has upon it a castle, a hotel, 
and a church, while the rest of the space is occupied 
by a garden of the most wonderful trees and plants. 
The gardener showed us around, plucking for us 
camelias, hyacinths, polyanthus, stock, and many other 
things of which I have foro-otten the name. There 
were terraces of orange, lemon, and shaddock trees 
covered with the ripening fruit ; but the greatest curi- 
osity was an immense cork tree. The bark is the 
part out of which stopples are made ; the leaf is like 
that of the evergreen oak, I inclose you a curious 
leaf, which has a flower blooming in the center of it. 
But I'm at the bottom of the last page. Good night, 

EUDOKA. 



LETTER FORTY-NINE. 429 



LETTER XLIX. 



Paris, March 26, 1876. 
Dear Brother South: 

jIJqTARD as it is to believe it, as I sit here in my old 
oa^ brown dress, we are really in the heart of fash- 
ion-loving and fashion-ruling Paris. We came late 
yesterday afternoon, and are only waiting for Monday 
morning before we "make a break " upon some 
shop where ready-made clothing is to be had. At the 
*' Bon Marche,''^ one has only to indicate the style of 
dress desired, when a lay -figure is hauled out, and made 
to wear one dress after another till " just the thing" is 
found. "While I was in Kome among the antiquities, 
I didn't care if my dress was old ; but the very at- 
mosphere of Paris fills me with a longing to improve 
my appearance. The consciousness of looking my 
best once more will be pleasing from its very novelty. 
It is, however, rather more agreeable not to look too 
well when going in public ; for, noted as Parisians are 
for politeness, well dressed gentlemen seem to con- 
sider it no breach of etiquette to stare deliberately at 
a lady for an hour at a time. Yesterday evening, in a 
restaurant, there was a man sitting across the room 
from me, right where I must see him every time I 
raised my eyes from my plate. He was eating at first; 



430 KAVENNA. 

but, that finished, he folded his arms comfortably on 
the table, and, in this attitude, gave himself up to the 
sole occupation of staring me out of countenance. I 
changed my position, so that Brother might be between 
me and him ; but he changed too. Now, it is not for 
the sake of attracting more of such attention as this 
that I desire a new and becoming outfit ; but I am 
beginning to feel that I am almost home, and that 
somebody there is interested in my personal appear- 
ance. But I'mwasting paper on such nonsense. Let's 
talk about something better. 

I wrote you last from Venice. It has been two 
weeks since then, two weeks full of most interestino; 
events. We left Venice on Monday — no Tuesday 
morning, and reached Milan that night, where we were 
joined by Miss Shaw. We left her in Kome you re- 
member. From there she came on to Florence, then 
to Bologna, and from B. made an excursion to Ea- 
venna. Her account of this old place was very amusing. 
It is a little place (19,000 inhabitants) but one of the 
oldest towns in Italy. Dante died and was buried 
there in exile from his native Florence ; Lord Byron, 
your favorite, spent some time there during his sojourn 
on the continent; and Miss S. thinks that from that 
time to the day of her arrival no stranger has ever 
graced the streets of Ravenna. At the station she was 
surrounded by beggars, guides, and hotel drummers, 
who kept right at her heels till she entered a cafe to 
escape them. 

Strengthened by a cup of coffee, she started out 
again to find the guides and beggars gone, but instead 



LETTER FORTY-NINE. 431 

a whole troop of boys became her voluntary and in- 
separable escort. Men and women on the street 
stopped to gaze after her ; those that were below 
shouted to their friends up stairs to look out at the 
windows at what was passing. Miss S. is very sen- 
sitive, and the thought of being alone among the rude 
people filled her with dismay. She contemplated a 
speedy retreat to the station, but her motto has always 
been: " In spite of everything." With face burning 
worse than it did on Vesuvius, she persisted in her ob- 
ject. She lingered long in each church to avoid, as 
long as possible, the noisy rabble without. At last all 
was seen and she was accompanied to the depot. Alas ! 
it was not yet time for the train, and she must wait. 
The boys didn't leave her for a moment ; but, what 
was worse, a dozen men sauntered in to swell their ranks. 
They leaned themselves against the wall and with their 
hands in their pockets and their mouths wide open, 
stared, yes, simply stared in her face. There was no 
way to escape their eyes ; she could not pretend to be 
unconscious of it, for there was nothing to look at. 
A happy thought struck her, she raised her parasol and 
thus hid from them her burning face. Strange to say 
the men understood this hint, one at a time they 
sneaked out with a most sheepish air ; but the boys 
were faithful to the last. After Miss S. related this 
experience we did not wonder so much at her hearty 
greeting: — 

*' I am so glad to see you; you have spoilt me till 
I don't enjoy traveling alone any more." 

Well we went together to the Cathedral, the Picture 



432 AN EXCURSION. 

Gallery, the Library, etc., of Milan ; and then Friday, 
morning, started on an excursion to the Lakes. We 
went by cars to Como, then went up to Mennaggio by 
boat, from M. took stage for Porlezza, a town at the 
eastern extremity of Lake Lugano. For twenty 
miles again, then, we were on the waters, passing the 
town of Lugano, and stopping at Ponte Tresa about 
half past three. Another stage ride of two hours fin- 
ished our journeying for the day, and brought us to a 
resting-place on Lake Maggiore. At eight in the 
morning, we were again on board a vessel, bound for 
Lucarno, the north point of the lake. It is from this 
town a railroad leads to the St. Gotthard Pass. We 
were very anxious to go over this pass, across to Lu- 
cerne, by Zurich to Mainz, thence on the Ehiue to 
Cologne, Brussels, Paris. We had already peopled 
the whole way with castles, and doubled the actual 
number on the song-famed Khine; but how they all 
came tumbling down as we reached Lucarno I All the 
way up the lake, we had persisted in sitting on top, 
and protected by the engine-house, managed to keep 
from freezing; but, as the boat stopped, and we came 
out on the wharf, we found a cutting wind no additiou 
to our enjoyment. We could see up into, the St. Gott- 
hard, and could not deny that a fearful snow-storm was 
raging there. If we had spent the winter in Minne- 
sota, we might have laughed at such obstacles ; but the 
balmy air of southern Italy does not fit one for such 
encounters. It was an hour before the boat would 
start back, and in that time we must decide upon 



LETTEE FOETT-NINE. 433 

our course. We did decide, and, no doubt, most 
wisely. We walked through the little town, and 
climbed a hill from which we could more fully appre- 
ciate the terrors of St. Gotthard — came down again 
and submissively seated ourselves once more behind 
the engine-house. We hadn't time to deplore our 
dilapidated castles, for the storm descended from the 
Alps upon the lake. The waves seemed to take pos- 
session of our vessel, and to desire to rid it of occu- 
pants. It seemed their fixed purpose to dislodge us 
from our shelter ; but the more they raged, the 
more we were determined to watch their wild sport. 
Ever and anon, an ambitious wave would reach the 
deck and dampen us with its spray ; but for more than 
an hour we resisted these attacks. Finally we grew 
chilly and yielded to the dictates of prudence. We 
found the cabin very dark and close, every window 
being covered with an iron shutter from without, ex- 
cept two right in the bow. In front of these we took 
our station and were more tossed than ever on the 
Atlantic. The air became sickening and again we 
sought the deck. Oh ! it was grand, shut in on each 
hand by mountains with foaming waters below us I 
Oh ! what tricks the winds played catching up the foam 
as if to bear it to the clouds. Sometimes, too, the sun 
would break through and convert all the flying mist 
into rainbows. Lake Maggiore seems to be just large 
enough to be discontented ; it wants to be an ocean. 
Now we were on Lugano during rain, but not once was 
its calm surface ruffled ; indeed, the moment the sun 

28 



434 ON THE LAKES. ■ 

came out it was, as ever, a perfect mirror of each mount 
and tree. I should like to be a Lugano,, peaceful within, 
whatever storms may rage without. There are many 
Lake Maggiores in the world, many tortured by the desire 
to be other than God intended. But I am digressing. 
The fury of the discontented waters did not subside 
till we reached Pallanza, and debarked for the night. 
Indeed, we remained in that lovely spot all day Sun- 
day, and rejoiced that we were not among the Alps 
instead. We were, however, still in sight of the white 
peaks of three noted passes: the Simplon, the St. 
Bernard, and the St. Gotthard. Just across the bay 
from us was a mountain called '' /Sasso di Ferro^* 
(Rock of Iron), and with the light of sunset upon it 
we understood the significance of the name ; it was 
like a great mass of the metal heated till all aglow. 
This glowing hue gradually gave way to a dark purple 
which crept up from the uneven base. I have seen 
four other European sunsets which I shall never forget ; 
on the North Sea, at Fiesole, on New Year's Day, at 
Venice, and finally at Turin. Of this last I must give 
you the particulars. 

We left Pallanza on Monday morning, and were two 
hours on as calm a lake as one could desire. It seemed 
Mago-iore had lashed herself into a more contented 
spirit. The banks were still very pretty, but toward 
Arona the scenery is much tamer than that north of the 
Borromean Islands. When we stepped ashore, it was 
with the feeling that March is the time to see the 
Italian lakes in all their grandeur. 



LETTEE FORTY-NINE. 435 

It was nearly night when we arrived in Turin , so we 
simply made out, before retiring, a plan for next day. 
Of the details of the morning programme, I shall give 
jou no account; but we found Turin, contrary to the 
the European custom, laid out in regular squares, its 
streets crossing each other at right angles. It is even 
more modern in appearance than Milan. 

At three o'clock in the afternoon, we took an omni- 
bus for the " Madonna del Pilone," a church about a 
mile below Turin. A half hour sufficed to pass over 
the broad, dusty highway, when we were put down in 
the only street of a little village. 

'< Which is the road to Superga?" I asked of the 
coachman. 

"Are you going there on foot? " he inquired. 

I told him such was our intention, to which he replied 
with an ominous shake of the head, and an assurance 
that it was very far. We paid no attention to this, nor 
to his offer of mules for the journey ; but set out in 
the direction indicated. Soon the road came to a turn, 
and, at a venture, we took the one to the right ; but, 
after going a little way, we asked a little girl if we were 
on the road to Superga. 

" No ; you must go back," was her reply. 

Well, we went back, and continued straight on 
till the next turn, when we again took the right 
hand, only to be told, after fifteen minutes, that we 
should have still kept straight ahead. After this we 
kept straight on till we found some men at work on 
the road. 



436 THE SUPERGA. 

" You must go back to the first turn," was their in- 
struction. 

This was the third time we had gotten lost, and it 
was now five o'clock, and we had ordered dinner at the 
hotel at six. Vachel thought it a very foolish thing 
to climb the hill anyway, but Kate and I were very 
anxious. "We could see on the tip top the white church 
in which are the tombs of the Sardinian kings. We 
could see the pillars to the portico, and my heart was 
set on witnessing the scene from that high point. But 
then I was hungry, too, and didn't like to miss my 
dinner. 

" It will take us fifteen minutes to get to the top," 
said v., " and then we can not get back in time for 
the last omnibus and must walk all the way to Turin." 

We continued to discuss the matter, and, at the same 
time, were beginning the ascent. The road is broad 
and free from obstacles, for it was constructed by the 
kings for the passage for their funeral cortege. 

" I know we will have to pay extra for our dinner, 
if we are too late," said V., as we made the first 
turn. 

" We'll get nothing to eat, to-night, and still have 
to pay for the dinner," was his suggestion at the next 
corner. 

The fact was we were beginning to see the nature of 
the road. It is so laid out that you scarcely know you 
are climbing at all, but this of course draws it out to 
much greater length. The Superga is the highest peak 
of a whole cluster of hills, but the road winds first 



LETTER FORTY-NINE. 437 

around one then another of its neighbors. "We were 
on the point of turning back, when a man on a donkey 
came riding down the hill. 

<< Why, where are you going? " was his query, and 
we recognized the speaker as the clerk of our hotel. 

He told us we couldn't walk so far, but we didn't care 
for this advice. We saw now a way out of the difficulty 
about the dinner. We told him we could not be there 
till seven, and he agreed to keep our victuals for us. We 
resumed again our walk with more hope of reaching our 
destination. I looked upon the white portico as now 
a certainty. Our fifteen minutes went by and still the 
church seemed as far away as ever. Kate began 
to want to rest every once in a while, but I kept right 
on leaving her in Y.'s care. At last the road made a 
direct turn, and as I followed it I lost sight of the 
church altogether. I looked below and saw V. and 
Kate resting cozily under a tree. I knew they 
only wanted me to propose going back, but I thought 
I must get one more glimpse of the longed-for terrace. 
Again I saw it, but it was still no nearer ; or, rather, 
it didn't seem far at first, and it kept always the same 
distance. The shadows were beginning to envelop the 
lower part of the road, and the sense of loneliness 
seized me. "Kate can never get to the top," I 
reflected, " some one may take my darling watch ; the 
church will be closed and T have no money to pay for 
having it opened," yet I could not stop, my feet went 
on and I felt if I should give up this undertaking, it 
would be the foundation of a vascillating character; 



438 VIEW FROM THE TOP. 

besides, at every turn, I thought it was the last; but 
every time a new one came into view. On and on I 
went — it was useless to look back, V. and Kate were 
nowhere in sight. After all, nobody would hurt 
me, and I must not give it up. The clock on the stee- 
ple struck six; the shadows from the valley were chas- 
ing me up the mountain side ; but yonder was that 
white walled church beckoning me on and on. I 
paused for nothing now. I heard men's voices in a 
shop by the roadside, but did not turn my head. I 
hoped they would think me crazy, and, therefore, not 
molest me. I had now reached the first " station of the 
Cross," and I knew the twelfth must bring me to the 
church door. Yes ; it did — my feet were, at last, on 
the coveted spot ! And was it too late ? Too late ! 
No. Oh ! that you could have seen it ! Before me 
was a whole circle of the Alps. In the center, the sun 
was just sinking behind Mt. Cenis; to the left, the 
sharp peak of Monte Viso caught the same rich tint ; 
to the right, most splendid of all, were the six peaks 
of Monte Rosa, all suffused with that delicate light 
which has given name to this queen of mountains. In 
the sky above, were clouds of richest purple and 
gold; a silver radiance covered the mountain sides, 
and all the city in the plain. The Po, and its tributary, 
the Dora Riparia, were glittering throughout their 
winding course. On the left, between me and the 
mountains, were the brown hills round which the 
road leads to Superga. They too felt the glow of 
sunset, and the white houses on their crests were like 



LETTER FORTY-NINE. 439 

the foam caps to Maggiore's storm waves. But the 
meagerness of my language forbids further attempt at 
describing this scene. 

I did not wait for the glory to fade from the sky 
and mountains, but turned to hurry down. I began 
to dread V.'s scolding, for I knew he would pronounce 
my undertaking a foolish one. I had just passed the 
men in the shop and was trembling a little at their 
laughter (I knew, they were making remarks about the 
unwonted apparition of a lady alone at Superga) when 
I caught sight of V. quite near. He did not see me, 
and before I could speak, he shouted "Sis" at the 
top of his voice. I answered, and without another 
word he wheeled around, and hastened down the hill, 
while I humbly followed. I knew he was angry, and 
as I am very averse to harsh words, I gave him no 
chance to utter his reproof. We almost flew down, 
for I comprehended that Kate was down there some- 
where, and might feel timid in the gathering dark- 
ness. We found her smiling and content ; she had not 
been able to come more than half the distance, but had 
seated herself to watch the sunset from that point. 
Y. became somewhat appeased when he saw no harm 
had befallen her, and I ventured to proclaim the suc- 
cess of my enterprise. There was no denying the fact, 
however, that we were very far from home, and might 
have to walk the whole distance. It was eight o'clock 
when we once more entered the little village, and looked 
around for the omnibus. Our fears proved well 
grounded — no omnibus was to be seen. We deter- 



440 BACK AGAIN. 

mined to make one more effort. We opened the door 
of a very dirty inn and asked if there were any possi- 
ble conveyance for Turin. How glad we were to hear 
the answer that a carriage could easily be had, and 
how we enjoyed the ride to the hotel, and the good 
dinner awaiting us. Y. and I made friends over our 
soup, but he still considers me rather incapable of 
judging what objects are worthy of my most strenuous 
efforts. He didn't see the sunset. 

I can not tell you yet the date of our embarking for 
New York. We have been busy to-day in finding 
apartments in which to remain during our month in 
Paris. Perhaps, to-morrow Vachel will get our return 
tickets. EuDOEA. 



LETTER L. 



Paris, April 1, 1876. 
Dear Brother Graham: 

JHAT you may not be entirely without April 
fools, I will contribute one to your letter-box. 
I know I shall succeed in fooling you ; for, at the sight 
of the foreign post-mark, you will groan inwardly at 
the thought of twelve more pages of catacombs, 
guides, beggars, madonnas, pick-pockets, broken col- 
umns, and volcanoes ; but I intend to write upon no 



LETTER FIFTY. 441 

such themes. As for the last, Vesuvius treated us 

shabbily by delaying the eruption a whole month from 

the day of our ascent; as for the ruins, we have left 

them in southern Italy. There will be upon these pages I 

no must of antiquity ; we are in Paris, and Paris is not 

in sympathy with the antique, not even with old 

dresses. We should have been attached to the suits 

which have clung to us all winter, but we were not 

here an hour till we were anxious to discard them, and 

to-day we are rejoicing in beautiful new costumes from > 

the '* Bon Marche.'' Indeed, we have scarcely made j 

an acquaintance beyond this famous shop, and its I 

rival, the " Magasin du Louvre; " but already are we 

charmed with the bustling city. 

Brother comes home at night with his head full of 
the new things learned during the day in the hospitals, 
and his heart glad with the thought that here many a 
coveted instrument may be had at small expense ; we 
respond with chatter about our jewel of a dressmaker, 
who talks English like an American and knows how to 
give just the right set to every bow and ruffle. In 
Italy we were all absorbed in art ; in Paris nature again 
asserts her sway. Like the rest of our sex, we find a 
becoming toilet an agreeable thing, when we have 
time to think about it. But in our new devotion to 
Paris we must not forget that we have, thus far, left 
Venice unnoticed. We must have gone there just the 
right season, for we found it surprisingly free from its 
ordinary nuisances; no dirt, no offensive odors, no 
musquitoes. We really felt quite at home among the jij 



442 AN AGREEABLE SUEPEISE. 

gondolas and fishes after the first few days. The 
Island City was very hospitable to us. The next day 
after our arrival we were coming home to dinner, or 
rather we had reached the door of our hotel and turned 
around for one more glance over the bay, when we 
observed approaching us a little woman with three 
white curls on each side of her face. I was wondering; 
if this were a Venetian lady, when she stopped, held 
out her hand to brother with a smile, saying : — 

"This is Dr. L., I believe." 

For a moment brother's face was a blank of non- 
recognition ; then he took the proffered hand and intro- 
duced to us " Mrs. Harris." The name furnished a 
solution of the puzzle. Brother had been telling us, 
on our way home, of his visit to the Consul an hour 
before. He went, as is our wont, to inquire for let- 
ters, but he was received with no official stiifness. 
The old gentleman greeted him as a welcome visitor, 
and seemed much surprised that any one should hunt 
him up. He detained brother for a little interchange 
of political gossip, and insisted that he should return 
and bring us with him. 

" If you do not call on us, I am sure my wife will 
call on you," were his last words. 

We had laughed heartily over this exaggerated case 
of formal politeness with no idea of its being at all 
sincere; but here was Mrs. Harris already, and there 
could be no more substantial proof of sincerity than 
she presently gave. 



LETTER FIFTY. 443 

" No, no, I haven't time to come in; I only want 
to invite you to tea on Monday evening, to meet two 
ladies who seldom have an opportunity to see Ameri- 
cans," was her answer as we invited her in. 

" Come about seven, it will be a regular American 
tea at the table," she further explained. 

Now, we were hungry for an " American tea," and 
she was evidently starving for want of American 
society, so we accepted the invitation. Promptly at 
seven we pulled the bell at a door over which the 
American eagle was hovering, and as promptly the 
door opened to admit us. The aged Consul (he is 
eighty-three), his white-haired but active little wife, 
and a young lady of some nineteen years, formed an 
interesting trio. The latter, especially, was all anima- 
tion, for she said it was a rare treat to her to see her 
fellow-countrymen . 

" There are just two American families in Venice 
besides ours, and one young gentleman who is an art- 
ist. The Italians are not sociable with foreigners, so 
you may imagine it is rather dull for a young girl. 
Our only amusement is an invitation to tea once in a 
great while, and a ball once a year." 

I began now to see why Mrs. H. had pursued Brother 
so rapidly. In Dresden, in Florence, in Rome, and in 
Naples, our people are so plenty that I do not think 
consuls are extremely delighted at a new arrival ; but 
Mr. H. and wife are glad of any break in the monot- 
ony of their existence. My conversation, however, 



444 VENETIAN CUSTOM. 

was chiefly with Miss A. She has been abroad four 
years and knows little of society in her native land, 
except what her mother has told her. She came first 
to Paris and spent some months in a French boarding- 
school, but her declaration of republican principles 
made her very unpopular. 

" I got black-marks every day for saying things I 
ought not ; they wanted me to sit always in one posi- 
tion and hold my hands just so; they would not let 
me toss my head without scolding me ; besides, they 
taught me almost nothing, so I left as soon as I could 
get away. I nearly finished the course, though; all 
that's necessary to get a certificate as French public 
school teacher is a little knowledge of poetry, of arith- 
metic, of geography and history, all taught in prim- 
ers," said she. 

But I can't repeat all she said, for she wasted not a 
minute of three hours we were there. In spite of the 
many foolish restrictions imposed by Venetian custom 
upon the life of a young lady she loves the city. She 
would like to go to America to see " all the clever 
people there," and then come back. 

" I am not rich enough to live in the United States 
without work; here I can, and for that reason I shall 
always make my home in Europe," was her sage com- 
ment. 

While we were thus busily chatting on one side of 
the room, Brother was discussing with Dr. Harris the 
Belknap scandal, and occasionally recurring to inci- 
dents of the late war. Kate and the artist, who joined 



LETTER FIFTY. 445 

US after tea, were vying with each other in the praises 
of Salvator Eosa and Claude Loraine. The artist has 
dodged about from one spot of earth to another till he 
scarcely knows what home is; but his special com- 
plaint against Americans who come to Venice is that 
they are always " going away to-morrow." Well, we 
too were " going away to-morrow," and were only 
waiting for a pause in the conversation to suggest the 
propriety of our taking leave. No pause came. 
People who have rarely the pleasure of society are not 
easily sated. We had to place a period at the begin- 
ning of some new topic, and then were accompanied 
by the young lady and the artist to the door of our 
hotel. 

After thus finding friends, we were rather unwilling 
to leave Venice next day, but what need was there to 
remain longer? We had seen the Cathedral of St. 
Mark in all its splendor of Byzantine mosaics and pil- 
lared architecture ; we had been from dungeon to attic 
in the Palace of the Doges, and over the Bridge of 
Sighs ; we had looked down from the Campanile of St. 
Giorgio Maggiore upon the whole network of islands ; 
we had spent a whole day among the masters of the 
Venetian school; we had explored the city on foot 
from north to south, from east to west ; we had ven- 
tured out with one gondolier to Murano and there seen 
the famous glass-works ; what more could we do ? 
Nothing. We must simply rise early next morning 
and go by the way of the grand canal to the railway 
station. There could be no more fitting terminus to a 



446 FAREWELL TO VENICE. 

stay in Venice ; nothing else could so leave one with 
the impression that the whole water founded city is a 
fabric of dreams. Once beyond the first bridge, where 
the tollman had cheated us out of half a cent the day 
before, there was nothing to mar our enjoyment of the 
panorama of palaces on either hand. If you would 
know just what beauty was revealed at every turn in 
that S shaped canal, you must rise before the sun, the 
day of your farewell to Venice, engage your harca by 
the hour to insure slow going, and putting aside every 
harassing thought, float dreamily with the tide. 

EUDORA. 



LETTER LI. 



Paris, France, April 30, 1876. 



Dear Brother Graham: 



5E AM quite well aware that we are treating Paris 



1 



unjustly. It has been a whole month since my last 
short letter, and, in the meantime, Kate has been able 
to give you only a few reminiscences of Milan. The 
truth is, she has been very ill since then, and that 
accounts for my want of punctuality. She is now 
convalescing, and promises to be strong enough to go 
with us to London next Monday. Since the first of 
April, I have learned that there is much in Paris 



LETTEE FIFTY-ONE. 447 

besides dressmakers and shop-windows. Indeed, I 
think I would make a better guide than Baedeker, at 
present, for since his last edition there have been some 
chano;es. For instance, in Venice he had us driftinof 
around for an hour in search of the Scharfnagel Hotel. 
At the end of that time we learned that Herr Scharf- 
nagel had for the last fourteen years been proprietor 
of a first-class gast-haus in Cairo, Egyj3t. Thus our 
confidence in Mr. Baedeker became a little shaken. 

Again, Galignani for Paris is not much better, for 
he had us chasing around all the southern boule- 
vards in search of the entrance to the Catacombs. 
Should you, then, call at the Hotel Jacob to employ 
me as guide, I should take you at once by way of the 
Eue Bonaparte to the south bank of the Seine. There, 
without bidding, you would pause a moment to survey 
the stream whose existence as a barrier between North 
and South Paris is annihilated by nineteen strongly- 
arched bridges. I should not allow you to take one 
of the omnibuses which go constantly to and fro ; for 
if you were not already posted as to the letter and 
color of each line, you would surely get the wrong 
one. Besides, our destination would be simply the 
immense palace opposite, and this we could reach in a 
few minutes on foot. I have become quite a pedes- 
trian since coming to Europe, and have thus saved 
many a franc to invest in kid gloves and ribbons. 

Of the three bridges which lead into the courts of 
the Louvre, the right hand is best, for it is used solely 
by foot passengers. On this bridge there is nothing 



448 SCENES rsr parts 

to obstruct your way except two rival comb-dealers. 
Each carries his whole stock in his right hand, and 
cries incessantly: 

*' Un petit peine — quinze centimes — frois sous/ 
Un petit peine — quinze centimes — trois sous 1 ' ' 

It is needless to purchase, for they will yell 
at you all the same half hour afterwards as if you 
were an American merchant come over to lay in a sup- 
ply of Parisian goods. But you will find their voices 
a musical relief, if your slumbers have that morning 
been disturbed by the unearthly notes of itinerant 
market-women. It is marvelous, the torturous 
sounds they can draw from the words *' chou-fleur^ 
radis, pommes, maquereaUf'' etc. In coarseness the 
French peasant woman surpasses the overtaxed Ger- 
man. But you might think it waste of time to tarry 
upon the bridge for so much comment ; if so, you need 
only turn your eyes to the East and contemplate the 
Gothic pile of Notre Dame. You can recall the fact 
that here Josephine was crowned by Napoleon in pres- 
ence of Pius YII. If you will go to Versailles you 
wiU see a most splendid picture of this coronation. In 
it Josphine is lovely, for she kneels gracefully before 
the Emperor and her face is seen in profile, thus con- 
cealing the want of beauty in her mouth. The Pope 
looks on with a stupefied air, as if forced to witness 
that which only his weak nature keeps him from oppos- 
ing. I fear now, I should not make so good a guide 
after all ; there are so many things I should want to 
tell you at once. In the Louvre there is such a 



LETTER FIETY-ONE. 449 

bewildering host of pictures, there was surely no need 
of this immediate recruit from Versailles. Once in the 
Louvre, we should have before us a good day's work 
to get a general idea of its arrangement. We shouldn't 
return to the hotel for lunch; there are plenty of 
restaurants much nearer the palace. It would be more 
convenient to carry a sandwich in your pockets and 
eat it in whatever part of the gallery twelve o'clock 
might find you ; but I tried that plan one day. I was 
innocently enjoying a nice apple when one of the 
guards came up to me, and lifting his cocked hat, 
said; — 

"Madam, I beg your pardon, but you are not 
allowed to eat in the gallery." 

In Italy, St. Peter's was not too good a place for nie 
to eat my lunch, for I know better than to drop 
crumbs on the floor. They spoiled me in Italy ; it 
takes these French to teach me my place again. I 
suppose if I had a permission from the President of 
the Kepublic, and would submit it to the inspection of 
the half a hundred officers scattered throughout the 
building, they would let me eat an apple undisturbed; 
but the Parisians delight in red tape. We learned this 
through a little transaction at the custom-house. We 
sent our trunks through as freight from Florence, and 
at the expiration of twenty days, went to the 
^^ Dotiane" in search of them. We presented our 
certificate at the first desk; the man read it through 
and told me to hand it to the next. This one sub- 
jected it to the same scrutiny, scribbled a few lines in 



450 PARTF1TAN CUSTOM. 

his book and passed it to a third. Led by this man 
we crossed the street to the opposite depot, where he 
bade us wait till he could find the trunks. We saw 
him roll them out, one after the other, when he dis- 
appeared without telling us what to do next. We 
were standing near an office, over which " Inspecteitr" 
was written. I thought I would call on the bald- 
headed agent, whom I could see through the window. 
"Will you please examine our baggage?" I asked, 
with some trepidation. 

" When your paper comes, Madam," was his bland 
reply. 

Well we stood (there was no place to sit) and waited 
for that paper. Every few minutes an officer came in 
with a bundle for some one else, but it was a whole 
hour before the inspector declared himself ready for 
us. I thought he would unpack our trunks to the bot- 
tom after all that formal delay, but he. was a delicate 
man and already weary. 

*' Have you any cigars or tobacco? " he asked. 
I assured him that I had not. This was rather a 
superflous question to put to one who detests the weed 
as I do ; but perhaps he took me for -a Eussian. I 
know of one Russian lady in Naples who is said to 
smoke forty cigarettes a day, and is clever enough to 
smuggle them every one. The inspector pretended to 
look through one trunk, then put his red mark on all. 
But we were not yet through. 

"Take your paper back to the other office now," 
was his direction. Again it had to pass from desk to 



LETTER FIFTY-ONE. 451 

desk. We paid the expressage, I signed my name — 
no I signed Kate's name, for the certificate was addressed 
to her; so we might have swindled them after all. We 
called a carriage now ; the coachman lifted the trunks up 
ontop,and we were going to follow, when we were told to 
present our papers to the gentleman in that little box to 
the left. By this time, instead of a single sheet we had a 
great package of official documents, and this man had 
to peruse the whole volume, giving each page a sus- 
picious glance. Then he filled the blanks on a little slip 
taken from his drawer, and said we were to hand this 
to the porter, while the well-read bundle was to be 
again put in Brother's pocket. We gave the slip to 
the porter, he gave it to the coachman, and we were 
allowed to depart. At the gate of the custom-house 
yard the carriage stopped, two more officials appeared 
at the window and asked for a peep at that mys- 
terious bundle of paper. Brother handed it to one ; 
he read it while the second h^Id his cigar. He again 
relumed it, and we were shortly beyond custom-house 
domains. This is but a matter-of-fact specimen of 
French management of affairs. 

But I have wandered entirely from the Louvre. 
We should devote ourselves first to the ground-floor. 
Through the museum of antique sculpture we can soon 
pass, for it contains few things comparable with the 
treasures of the Vatican. Before the Venus de Milo, 
however, we must pause long. Both arms of this 
beautiful antique have been broken ofi^ above the el- 
bow; but there is left the matchless poise of the head, 



452 WOEKS OF ART. 

the graceful curves of the perfectly proportioned 
body, and the rare expression of soul-depth in the 
face. There is no need of catalogue in this museum, 
for on each pedestal is the name of the work of art 
which it bears. Many of them are put down as of the 
Borghese collection. You remember Napoleon I. was 
very munificent to the Louvre — munificent as were 
the Popes of former days to Rome. It was but fol- 
lowing the example of the Holy Fathers, when he 
helped himself to the rarest statuary and paintings 
Italy could afford. As it resulted, most of these were 
simply borrowed long enough to obtain exact copies, 
which still adorn the Louvre. 

If you should wish to drive still further into the an- 
tique, we could next cross the court and explore the 
Assyrian and Egyptian collections. For my part, I 
should prefer to enter at once the department of mod- 
ern sculpture. One tires after a while of the ever 
recurring subjects of Grecian sculptors. It is a pleas- 
ure to find something new, though less perfectly 
treated. The chisel of Canova has furnished the gem 
of this collection, Cupid and Psyche, but I shall not 
attempt a description. We must go up stairs and lose 
ourselves in the long galleries of pictures there. 
From the delicate genre scenes of Greuze to the gross 
absurdities of Rubens, every bit of canvas presents 
something of interest. There is no lack of the Old 
Masters in their finest style: Raphael's St. Michael 
conquering Satan; Andre del Sarto's most refined edi- 
tion of his wife's face as Madonna; Murillo's Yirgin 



LETTER FIFTY-ONE, 453 

of the Immaculate Conception; Da Vinci's cunning- 
eyed MonaLisa ; Titian's Entombment of thie Savior; 
Paul Veronese's Supper at Cana, and others. But 
these are so Judiciously mingled with other subjects 
by later artists, that one can not grow sated. There 
are Canallette's scenes from Venice; Panini's inte- 
riors, among which that of St. Peter's is recognizable; 
Albani's wood nymphs, clipping wings of sleeping cu- 
pids ; Robert's Neapolitan Group ; Mayer's Boating by 
Moonlight; Poussin's landscapes; David's superb 
classic and historic pieces. 

It is likely you would want a breath of fresh air by 
five o'clock, and there is no more charming place than 
the Tuillerie Gardens to enjoy it. The trees are all in 
full leaf now, and every afternoon the people of Paris 
resort thither. The little ones are busy with their 
tiny wooden spades, filling their buckets with the clean 
sand and emptying it again in great heaps ; boys of 
ten and twelve are sailing their boats in the large, cen- 
tral basin ; fathers and mothers witness with pleasure 
the sports of their children. You would see beyond 
the Obelisk of Luxor and the two fountains of the 
Place de la Concorde — further still, the prominent 
triumphal arch erected by Napoleon I., and between 
them the Avenue Champs Elysees ; but you would be 
too tired and hungry to be attracted further, even by 
such objects. At least that's the way I feel just now, 
and for that reason shall go no further to-night. I 
shall prove to you yet, however, that I know some- 
thins: of Paris. 



.454 TUILLERIE GARDENS. 

We have return tickets to America for the 27th of 
May, by the Auchoria, a new steamer of the Anchor 
Line. We have yet to see something of England and 
Ireland, and last, but not least, the Exposition at 
Philadelphia. 

EUDOEA. 



LETTER LH. 



Paris, May 7, 1876. 
Dear Brother South: 

tHIS is Sunday afternoon, my last in Paris. We 
havebeenherenowa week longer than we at first 
expected. I wanted to stay till the 2d, in order to visit 
the exposition of pictures painted this year by French 
artists ; the 2d found Kate still too weak to make the 
journey to London, so we concluded to wait till to- 
morrow, the 8th. We propose starting at noon for 
Dieppe, which we can reach in a few hours ; at seven 
in the evening, we will go aboard the steamer, and will 
be carried by night to New Haven ; at nine next 
morning, we should be in London. I can scarcely 
believe that in so short a time we shall be again among a 
people who speakour own tongue. I have become so ac- 
customed to hearing other languages, that I never expect 
a stranger to speak English. I can understand enough 
French now to catch items of conversation as I am 



LETTER FIFTY-TWO. 455 

passing along the street. For instance, the other day 

I was crossino; the bridge on which ever since our ar- 
cs o 

rival two have been engaged in selling combs. They 
have been the only peddlers on the bridge, till the last 
few days, in which an old, gray-haired man with open- 
rings for keys has distracted the attention of the 
passing public. He calls out all the time " wn sow" 
(one cent) and as V. was in need of the article the 
other day, he stopped to buy one. It turned out it 
was only the very small ones at the bottom of his 
string which were so cheap, and V. had to pay two 
sous for the one he selected. Thus the old man by 
crying one sou creates a false impression, and I over- 
heard one of the comb-men give him a moral lecture 
upon the subject yesterday. 

"You are all the time saying, ' one sou, one sou,' " 
said his reprover, " and you know it is not true. These 
big ones are four sous, these are three, and these two; 
why don't you say ' four sous ! four sous? ' " 

The old man listened till the harangue was ended, 
then pulling away commenced anew his monotonous 
" wn soul unsouf" while the honest comb dealer 
looked after him in hopeless contempt. I don't know 
how they have finally adjusted the difficulty, for to- 
day all were absent from their wonted beat. But 
these little episodes are probably less interesting to you 
than to me. 

I am making good use of this extra week in further 
familiarizing myself with the French language. I am 
now reading an amusing book by Jules Yerne, " Ze 



456 THE FRENCH LANGUAGE. 

Tour des Monde en quartre-vingt Jours ^^ *' The Tour 
of the World in Eighty Days." It is largely inter- 
spersed with conversations, so it is quite an aid in 
acquiring colloquial French. Soon after coming to 
Paris, I arranged with our landlady to exchange con- 
versation lessons every evening. This has saved me 
both money and time. I meet many here who have 
studied French several years before coming, yet 
they are perfectly dumb in Paris, while from the first, 
I have been able to understand and be understood. I 
wonder if am destined never to use French after this 
tour? I can not think so. I have always felt it a 
duty to use every opportunity for the acquisition of 
knowledge; and, hitherto, I have always found a use 
for all the knowledge in my possession. . I remember 
when I first went to college, an old lady said : — 

«* Well, I know Dory will study monstrous hard; 
but 'taint much use fur a gal to have book larnin'. 
She jist gits married, and forgits all she knowed." 

If I thought the old lady's prediction would be ver- 
ified, I should certainly forego all the anticipated bliss 
of the connubial state. 

Vachel and I have some fun out of these French and 
also allow them many a laugh at our expense. I went 
with him, the other day, to buy a suit of clothes. 

There had been an advertisement handed to him on 
the street upon which was the following: " Wedding- 
suit for thirty-nine francs (seven and four-fifths dol- 
lars)." Armed with this slip of paper, we hunted out 
the clothing store. "Liquidation! Liquidation!" 



LETTER FIFTY-TWO. 457 

was written all over the front of the building, as is 
usual in these shops where limited patronage requires 
them to adopt some such trick for catching customers. 
We were shown up stairs, a fat, jolly-looking clerk 
bowed us a welcome. Brother pointed to the adver- 
tisement ; the fellow stuck his tongue in the side of his 
cheek, winked one eye, shook his finger at us and 
laughed, as much as to say: " I understand the case 
exactly." He imagined that I was the blushing bride 
elect, and that this was my betrothed, in whose wed- 
ding-suit I must, of course, feel a great interest. He 
produced the suit with the air of one who felt sure of 
pleasing, winked and laughed again. We laughed too, 
for, of course, it was nothing fit to wear. We asked 
for something of better quality. " Oh ! yes," he said, 
and skipped about in a lively search for something 
more desirable. His black coats were all too coarse, 
and we asked for something colored. At this he 
opened his eyes, but was too polite to tell us in words, 
that a wedding-suit must always be black. He brought 
out a very pretty coat and vest, tried it on V., then 
looked around to see the admiration in my eyes. Y. 
decided to take this suit, then priced a good many 
other things — or rather I did it for him. To all these 
we objected with the assurance that we could get them 
cheaper in England. Finally we were leaving when 
he noticed V.'s rusty hat. 

" Oh ! don't you want another hat? " he cried out. 

*' He has another one — a nice silk one he bought 
this morning — a twenty franc one," I told him the 



458 A SLIGHT MISTAKE 

best I could, suppressing all the time laughter at the 
ridiculous light in which we were placing ourselves. 

** Well, I have something else for you," and he fol- 
lowed us down stairs ; by another significant gesture of 
his forefinger, bade us wait a minute ; took a key, and 
with mysterious air, unlocked his desk. 

TVith another flourish he handed me something which 
proved to be a little round mirror, with the card of the 
house on the back. I suppose he thought it would be 
an aid in arranging my bridal toilet. He stood in 
the door to watch us out of sight, and no doubt, he is 
still laughing about the English custom of a young 
lady's going around to select her sweetheart's wedding 
suit. 

I have bought a number of pictures here, among 
others a view of the bed in which Napoleon I. used to 
sleep in his palace at Fontainebleau. I saw the bed 
when I was there, and this picture is colored so you 
can see the richness of the velvet coverings. I have 
also procured a graphoscope, which gives to my views 
the perspective of reality. How many, many things 
I shall have to tell you ! As long as I am able to 
talk, I shall have something to tell of Europe ; and as 
long as I am able to read, I shall have something to 
learn of its past history. I am so grateful for the 
privileges of this year ! If I can get back safe to you, 
if I can get a place to teach not too far from home, I 
shall be very, very happy. But what right have I 
to expect such continual gratification of my hopes ? 
There may yet come months of separation, but they 



LETTER FIFTY-TWO. 459 

will end as the last twelve have done. I shall cease to 
think of anything beyond that anticipated meeting in 
New York, I can not believe that in nineteen days, 
we are to try once more the perils of the deep. Indeed, 
this will be my last letter, and you will give me the 
answer in person. I am so glad we shall be very busy 
the next three weeks, for otherwise they would seem 
interminable. And then that nine days' ocean voy- 
age I Will it ever pass ? Eleven days did not seem 
long before, but then each one was taking us from 
home and friends to strange lands and strange faces. 
The return will be so different. But you will be 
watching for us, won't you? You'll seethe Anchoria 
from the time she is a mere speck in the horizon, till 
she gradually develops into hull and sails, till you can 
distinguish sailors among the rigging ; till you can 
descry upon the "Lookout " the captain with glass in 
hand ; till you can see groups of passengers on deck ; 
till you can see that one among them is the *' girl who 
left you behind" in that long ago June-day, in Cin- 
cinnati, and that she is waving her handkerchief in 
recognition. What may happen after the ship touches 
the pier, we shall leave to the inspiration of the mo- 
ment — or rather to the proprieties of the occasion. 

Now let me tell you something about the Exposition 
of pictures. This is something which occurs annually — 
begins always first of May. I saw from the catalogue 
that there were more than three thousand pictures, all 
pointed since last May by French artists. During 
the Exposition, these works are daily subjected to the 



460 THE EXPOSITION. 

criticism of the public. Many artists thus find pur- 
chasers ; but the very best are usually bought by the 
government and placed in the Luxembourg Palace. 
There they remain till the death of the artist, when 
if considered worthy, they are transferred to the 
Louvre. I went on Friday with no intention, how- 
ever, of making a purchase. I had to go alone, for 
Kate thought there were other things more important 
for her to see than these modern pictures, and she 
could not go alone. It was not so nice as being with 
you in the gallery at Cincinnati; but I determined 
to do a good day's work. 

The very first picture was " The Bridal Tour." A 
couple in a nice carriage were being driven down a hill, 
over a road with deep ruts on either side. The bride- 
groom was anxiously directing the course of the coach- 
man ; but the bride sat back calmly trusting everything 
to her better half. May be she had previously given 
him a little private advice — don't know. 

Another very striking work by Forberg was a littl e 
girl reading to her grandfather, a gray-haired veteran, 
the news of the Prussian victories in 1870 and 1871. 
Her only thought is to pronounce each word distinctly 
for grandpapa's dull ear; but each one pierces to his 
heart and is written in bitter anguish on his face. 

The aim of the French school, a few years ago, was 
to imitate Grecian models. Every bit of drapery was 
studiousl}'' avoided; every attitude was statuesque. 

Now, the study of nature seems to be the aim. This 
is especially noticeable in their fruits and flowers. 



LETTER FIFTY-TWO. 461 

There is one bit of canvas over which a light wind has 
blown two or three branches of a wild rose bush; 
there is another with a bunch of just ripening wild 
plums. This is so much prettier and more graceful 
than dishes of fruit, or stiff bouquets of flowers. 

London, May 8. — I quit last night, — no, night be- 
fore last — in Paris, because I was tired and sleepy, 
and besides I wanted to keep the letter until now that 
I might tell you of our safe arrival in this great 
metropolis. You should have been with us last night 
from Dieppe over the English Channel to New Haven. 
We reached Dieppe at six in the afternoon, claimed the 
best berths on our side of the steamer, went to dinner 
out in town, then strolled down to the beach. 

Oh ! the waves were awe-inspiring as they came 
rushing towards the shore, and broke into perpendic- 
ular cliffs of spray at our feet. We watched it till the 
moon rose above the house-tops, and lent a silvery glim- 
mer to the turbulent waters. It was glorious to watch 
it thus from land ; but I knew I never had witnessed 
such a sea, and felt sure we were in for a good shaking 
up. We retired about ten, and soon I was asleep, but 
troubled in my dreams with the thought that Kate was 
terribly sea-sick. The truth was the ship had not 
started, and did not start till half past one. At her 
first lurch, my napping was ended, and in less than a 
quarter of an hour every lady in the cabin was sick, 
excepting one, and that one was not myself. Vachel 
looked like a ghost, this morning, when he stuck in his 
head to inquire after our welfare. I'll tell you more 



462 ATLANTIC OCEAN'. 

about it when I shall have slept off the idea that I am 
still on that ship with the waves, every minute dashing 
over the deck. We begin to dread the voyage home, 
lest last night'' s experience be repeated. In spite of 
the suffering, though, it was really funny. We have 
nice lodgings near Fleet Street, and shall begin seeing 
London to-morrow. 

EUDOEA, 



LETTER LIL 



Atlantic Ocean, June 6, 1876. 

Dear Brother Graham. : 

WwT'"^ have just finished our fifth ample meal for 
^^T to-day, and each one is looking about for 
some new eveming's entertainment. The juveniles recur 
to their dominoes ; players of backgammon rattle their 
dice anew; my lord, the Provost of Glasgow, has 
challenged three of his sturdy countrymen to a game 
of whist ; two gentlemen are aiding me in the effort 
to dissipate the contents of a huge ink-stand. To- 
morrow evening, the captain says, the spires of New 
York will be between us and sunset ; and early Thurs- 
day morning we will have the pleasure of displaying 
our new dresses, ties, gloves, pictures, and other val- 
ables to our old friends of the Custom House. De- 



LETTER FIFTY-THREE. 463 

\ 

lightf ul anticipation ! Hope they will not take a fancy 
to our new " Paris kids," and help themselves to as 
many pairs as did their brethren on the English bor- 
der. 

Ten days since, we left Glasgow, rejoicing in the 
thought that perhaps a dozen suns might rise to reveal 
no " new thing beneath." We were heartily tired of 
the daily renewed duty of sight-seeing; it had become 
a burden of which we were glad to be rid. In fact, we 
were thoroughly convinced that one year's travel is 
quite enough for once ; whether your aim be to crowd 
your brain, or empty your purse. One might have 
safely offered that day to pay my expenses to Jerusa- 
lem. 

We dropped gently down the Clyde and saw its 
green banks melt gradually into gray ocean, but we 
hadn't energy to indulge a single regret ; we anchored 
at Moville next morning to take in new passengers, 
but we viewed their faces with equal apathy ; Ireland 
receded from us as Scotland had done, but we let it go 
with scarce a sigh for the unseen Killarney. By Mon- 
day we were fully at sea, and, in common with our 
fellow-passengers, in a state of disgust at the contrary 
winds and waves. In truth, this disgust increased till 
it grew into an epidemic nausea. Tuesday morning 
came, but still the winds were hurling waves against 
our bow, and still the disgust prevailed. 

But I had come aboard the Anchoria thoroughly sat- 
urated with novelties, and was now determined to en- 
courage no longer even a new sensation. By the 



464 MAN OVEKBOARD. 

fourth day many others had Joined me in this resolve, 
and to-night everybody is in a good humor with the 
good ship, its captain and crew. But there are not on 
board to-night all who began with us the voyage. Two 
incidents have occurred to sadden this return trip. 
One day, when we were about mid-ocean, and just as 
we had commenced our four o'clock dinner, we were 
startled by a rushing of many feet overhead, and the 
cry of, — 

*' Man overboard ! man overboard ! '* 
i Instantly the captain dropped his carving knife, the 
first mate followed his example, and a minute after- 
ward, the salon was deserted, while hundreds of ex- 
cited faces peered over the railing at the stern of the 
vessel. The sea was more quiet than it han been on 
any previous day ; but the boat let down to the rescue 
seemed a frail thing to contend with the jet high-rolling 
billows. Almost breathlessly we watched the tiny bark 
as it rose upon the top of one wave, then disappeared 
to rise above the white crest of the next. Eagerly we 
watched, as they completed the circuit, and turned 
toward the ship. Sadly we saw the boat again drawn 
up with only the six sturdy sailors on board. They had 
sought in vain for the unfortunate wretch, and the 
captain could only give the order to put on steam and 
leave him to the mercy of the waters. Every one 
found his tongue now, and the one question was, — 

*' Who was he?" 
^ The answers to this were rather indefinite, but the 
first mate said he was an Irishman who belonged to the 



LETTER FIFTY-THREE. 465 

crew. He had been complaining that he was sick, but 
the ship doctor could see nothing the matter with him, 
so he was not excused from duty. The other sailors 4 
kept teasing him, calling him a lazy fellow. He grew 
more and more dejected every day, and finally had 
thought to put an end to his miseries by jumping over- 
board. This was all we could learn of the cause of ^'^ 
the suicide ; but, no doubt, the return of the lost one 
will be a subject of longing to many an anxious heart. 

Night before last some of the passengers were 
anxious to have a dance. It was only necessary for the 
steward to remove the tables, when the salon would 
afford plenty of space. Some one took it upon him- 
self to ask the captain's permission, thinking an easy ^ 
assent would be obtained; but his answer was: — 

"No, it is not proper to have dancing at the same 
time with such serious illness on board." 

These words of his referred to a Frenchman who 
had been very sick from the moment he came on board, ^ 
and was now pronounced worse. This morning the 
stewardess came to the door of our state-room to tell us 
that during the night the poor man had breathed his 
last, and that at eleven o'clock be would be buried in 
the sea. This was his request, though we were within ^ 
a few hundred miles of New York. He had one friend 
on board, and on him must devolve the duty of writ- 
ing back the sad tidings to the friends of the deceased. 
Promptly at eleven the passengers assembled on deck. 
Two of the sailors came forward with hammers, ^ 
loosed a movable portion of the iron railing, and moved 
30 



466 BUE-rAL AT SEA. 

it to one side. Now the crowd of steerages parted to 
make room for the pall-bearers. Thej seemed to bear 
their burden with difficulty, owing, I suppose, to the 
weights put along with the corpse in the box. The 
rude coffin was placed upon the plank, with the feet 
turned toward the water ; the red flag which had been 
spread over it was removed , then the sailors lifted 
their hats in reverence while the funeral service was 
read. Tears rolled down the cheeks of the captain, 
for familiarity with such scenes has not hardened his 
heart ; a feeling of awe came upon each one as the 
voice of the preacher foretold the resurrection of the 
dead, whether they be hidden in the bosom of the 
earth, or the bosom of the deep. As the last word of 
the service was uttered one end of the plank was 
raised, the black box slided off, we heard it fall into 
the water, then the crowd dispersed. 

Glencoe, July 2, 1876. -^ Probably " Foreign Cor- 
respondence " from Glencoe will seem rather tame, but 
I must finish this letter. It has been almost a month 
since the night I wrote the above; but until now I 
have had no leisure to continue. 

Well, we did reach New York next day, June 7th, 
sure enough. Never was the strand of Loch Katrine 
more beautifully silver than the white line of the Long 
Island Beach ; never seemed Italian villas more roman- 
tic than the tree-embowered country-seats on Staten 
Island. "We knew we were yet a thousand miles from 
our own homes ; but that thousand miles would be upon 
American soil, and as our feet touched the pier, our 



LETTER FIFTY-THREE. 467 

hearts beat to the glad tune of " Home at last." But 
our troubles were not over yet, for there were those 
bugbears, the Custom House officers. We opened 
those trunks once more (by the way you would scarcely 
recognize them as the bright, new ones with which we 
started), and the search began. I had one article 
which I supposed contraband, and for convenience had 
placed on top. Sure enough, he seized upon it, and in a 
few minutes came back with a bill calling for a duty of 
six dollars in gold. I paid it, but I think just now 
that I could recite to you the arguments in favor of 
free trade better than I did the day I was examined in 
political economy. But we were too happy to fret 
long over small matters, and too patriotic at that mo- 
ment not to excuse the few imperfections in our gov- 
ernment. 

As I said in the beginning, we were sick of sight- 
seeing when we left Scotland; but eleven days of 
monotonous sea-life had quite cured us. Our zest for 
novelty had fully returned. We went once more to 
Central Park, to find its attractions in no wise dimin- 
ished by comparison with Hyde Park of London, or 
with the Eoyal Gardens at Versailles. A trip up the 
Hudson and back consumed the next day ; Saturday 
morning we came down to Philadelphia, and took a 
peep that day at the main building of the Exposition. 
Sunday morning we met with a small congregation of 
Disciples, where we heard a most excellent discourse 
by Prof. Brown, of Indianapolis. In the evening we 
spent a half hour in silent meditation with the Friends. 



468 HOME AGAIN. 

Monday and Tuesday we '* did up" the rest of the 
Exposition, and Tuesday night we started to Niagara 
Falls. You see I haven't space to describe my im- 
pressions on beholding the mighty cataract ; and had I 
space, ability would still be lacking. I leave you to 
imagine also the welcome home, and the depth of our 
gratitude to find that the Good Father had spared all 
the ** dear ones " to greet our return. 

EUDOEA. 



LETTER LIY. 



Glencoe, December 10, 1876. 
Dear Brother Graham: 

tN the usual formal notice, some weeks ago, you 
made known to your readers the sudden terminus 
to " Eudora's " career. A friend of mine thus briefly 
disposed of my biography: " Went to Europe^ came 
hack, got married.'^ Quite a climax, you see, but 
some think it one of an inverse order. I know per- 
sons differ in their opinions of matrimony ; some call 
uiQ fortunate in thus finding rest from my wanderings 
in a home offered by love, others say 'twas foolish to 
sacrifice a world-wide freedom for ever so tender a 
bondage. Be that as it may, I wish to inform you 
that *'Kate" has proved neither more wise nor less 



LETTER FIFTY-FOUR. 469 

fortunate than myself. I parted from her five min- 
utes ago at mother's gate. She was only my friend 
during those months abroad, but she is my sister now. 
The third party, who figured in my letters as ' ' Brother," 
and was occasionally mentioned by her as "the Doctor" 
is now her husband. Their courtship was romantic, 
and I could tell you all about it, but I prefer to reserve 
that till I write my first sensational novel. 

Their wedding took place Thanksgiving Day, at the 
home of her father, E. S. Frazee, in Eush County, 
Indiana. The wintry blasts of that day were rather a 
rude greeting to guests, coming as did some of us, 
from a southern clime ; but the warmth and cheer 
within made us soon forget the snows without. 

At half past one, the bride in the wonted veil and 
orange blossoms, ended our suspense in the certainty 
of her presence. Each uttered calmly the responsive 
" I do," which transformed Miss E. Katie Frazee into 
Mrs. Dr. V. T. Lindsay. First to salute the bride was 
O. A. Burgess, who, in solemn tones had just pro- 
nounced them man and wife. He extended his con- 
gratulations not only to the newly wedded pair, but to 
the attendants, Miss Belle Frazee and Mr. N. T. Lind- 
say, whose graceful performance of their part he com- 
plimented. Grandmas, parents, brothers and sisters, 
uncles, aunts, cousins and friends, joined in the well- 
wishing, till the couple, well-nigh smothered with 
kisses, led the way to the dining-room. To appreciate 
the substantials was quite in place, now that the senti- 
mental part was over, and never did Thanksgiving 



470 ORANGE BLOSSOMS. 

turkey, oysters, and sweetmeats receive more hearty at- 
tention. I found myself next to the Rev. L. D. Potter, 
D. D., of Glendale College, and was somewhat embar- 
rassed thereby, for I recalled a little deception which 
I practiced upon him last summer. He offered me a 
position of honor in his school ; I declined upon the 
grounds that a previous desirable offer had already 
been accepted. Of course he interpreted this as 
referring to a position in some other college, and knew 
no better till he saw me here with the married people 
at the first table. With his young wife beside him, 
however, he could not consistently ridicule my weak- 
ness, so we were soon conversing upon easy terms. 
The guests lingered till the evening, and then were 
loth to go. 

Next morning, at an early hour, the bridal party left 
for Glencoe, Kentucky, where " Kate " has learned to 
say "Father and Mother Lindsay," and to open her 
heart to a goodly number of new relatives. She and 
Brother start to-morrow for Springfield, Illinois, his 
place of practice. Eudora. 



A long life of unalloyed connubial bliss to ** Eu- 
dora " and "Kate." Their names have not only 
become familiar to our readers, but dear as well, on 
account of the rich entertainments afforded through 
the " Foreign Correspondence " in this and the pre- 



LETTER FIFTY-FOUR. 471 

ceding volume of the Apostolic Times. And in behalf 
of our readers, we here express the hope that the hap- 
piness abounding in the " homes offered by love " to 
these fair and gifted writers will not induce a forget- 
fulaess of their pens. They are hereby earnestly 
requested by the editors of this paper to continue their 
interesting contributions to its columns. 



LETTER LY 



Excelsior Institute, December 2, 1884. 

Dear Reader: 

OMETIME since, one who had read our letters 
to Bro. Graham, asked a friend of mine, " Do 
tell me what ever became of the Doctor? Perhaps you 
who have read the preceding pages, feel some such 
interest in regard to those of whom I have spoken. It 
was my pleasure, this summer, to visit Kate and the 
" Doctor," in their cheerful home in Springfield, 
Illinois, and I have in my album a group of their four 
bright-eyed children, one to match each of mine. 
While there I also enjoyed the privilege of spending a 
day in company with Miss Pickrell at the hospitable 
home of her sister, Mrs. Passfield. She proved a no 
less agreeable companion on land than on sea. 

Mr. P., of Cincinnati, my gallant attendant on the 



^Y2 LETTER FIFTY-nVE. 

Bastei, is another whom we again met some months 
after our return. The last heard of him he had 
recently become a Benedict. 

With, dear Miss Shaw, Kate and I both keep up an 
occasional correspondence. She has turned to good 
account her knowledge of foreign lands ; for twice a 
year she crosses the ocean with a party of seven or 
eight ladies. For her winter tour she leaves New York, 
October 1st, and returns about April 10th, a space of six 
months. On her summer tour she embarks May 15th, 
and returns September 15th, time four months. Any 
lady who desires to see Europe under the guidance of 
an intelligent and careful chaperon, would do well to 
address Miss Anne Shaw, care of Messrs. John Mun- 
roe & Co., 8 Wall Street, New York. Miss Shaw 
writes that she is quite happy in this kind of life, and 
protests she does not in the least envy me and Kate 
the tender bondage in which we live. Of course she'll 
pardon us for being a little skeptical on that head ; 
but I can think of nothing, which, if practicable, would 
a:fford me more delight than, with Miss Shaw, to live 
over again those happy Italian days. Miss Shaw says 
she would like to take with her young ladies whom I 
have trained, for, she thinks, they would appreciate 
Europe. If you, dear reader, desire such special train- 
ing, we gladly offer to you the privileges of Excelsior 
Collegiate Institute, near Jett, Franklin County, Ken- 
tucky. If you should desire to attend commencement 
on the second Wednesday in June, write a card to that 
effect, addressing 

Mrs. Eudora Lindsay South. 



PART 11. 

FIRESIDE THODGHTS. 



(473) 



FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 



ESSAYS. 



Valedictoey Delivered at Hooker (now Hamil- 
ton) College, June 8, 1871. 

Friends^ Teachers, Schoolmates: 

to remind you of the solemn occasion which has 
called us together this day is needless. Dear 
classmates, I see the countenance of each reflects 
the grave twilight of our school-days' fast declining 
sun. We will not, with vain words of regret, hasten 
on the approaching darkness of our parting hour ; but 
here, while the last lingering ray remains, let us look 
around us and decide whither next we shall go. 

Step lightly as we may, some vestige of the path we 
tread must remain long. after our weary feet shall have 
rested beneath the sod. This we know by the fate of 
those gone before, those whose footprints time's swol- 
len stream has vainly striven to obliterate. Thus far 
ours has been the broad and beaten way traveled by 
our fathers, since education has claimed for herself a 
specific search. We have had naught to do but push 
straight forward in their steps, for no other leads to 
the goal. But, to-day, we reach that point in the high- 

(475) 



476 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

way where innumerable paths diverge; some lately 
made, some made years ago, yet easy to be traced. 

Now, how shall we proceed? To remain where we 
are is impossible. Shall we follow in some path we 
see before us? or shall we choose the yet unbroken 
sands as a place for our feet? The question is of 
moment ; we should weigh it well. Let us not decide 
too hastily, for, once departed from this point to which 
the last of our school-days has brought us, return is 
impossible. Let us pause awhile and examine care- 
fully a few of these many ways. 

Here, first, is one presented, over which though only 
one has passed, the distinct impressions show that with 
confidence the course was undertaken. Yet difficulties 
seem to arise at the very outset. Former associates 
are loth to have one of their number pursue a course 
so different from that which they intend to follow. 
Many, for a time, keep near his side, and more than 
one sad deviation tells by what allurements they strive 
to win him from his purpose. But something far 
ahead, the object of his aspirations, furnishes the 
stimulus by which he tears away the fetters of youth- 
ful folly. Farther and farther his path is separated 
from those of his former boon companions. Deeper 
and more distinct becomes his impress in the sands, 
until the attention of every wayfarer seems directed 
to his onward progress. Many turn aside to do him 
honor, and, with symbolic laurel, strew his way. His 
movements are now the guiding star by which thou- 
sands direct their steps. To lead and to rule millions 



ESSAYS. 477 

is now his prerogative ; for his steady forvvard march 
has led to a place the highest in the land. 

Shall we go farther? Shall we follow him through 
all the efforts for still greater power which, doubtless, 
terminate his course? Our object to-day is not simply 
to admire the achievements of a predecessor, but to 
find something suitable for us to imitate. Is this the 
example for us ? Political fame is his continual incen- 
tive. Shall we strive for the same ? 

This involves the much agitated question of rights, 
of Woman's Eights. However illogical, at the outset, 
I assume, without proof, a right, the right to express 
my opinion on the subject. Who can plead a better? 
Am not /, as Mrs. Stanton says, one of the injured 
party? You know, it is asserted by our sovereign 
lords, otherwise the men, that we presume too much 
when we would aspire to political distinction. *'For," 
say they, ** woman has not sufficient strength of mind 
to discharge the duties now devolving upon us." In 
proof of this they cite physical inferiority, as though 
mind were to be measured by matter. Because the 
gem is held in casket of finer, more fragile mold, does 
that prove its value less ? 

But let us allow man his boasted capacity. In the 
very vanity evinced in his boasting there is a weakness 
I should not wish to display. The question at issue is 
better decided on other grounds. It is said by some 
of our own sex that our condition is, by far, too 
subordinate; that we should rise and throw off the 
bondage to which we have been so long subjected. 



478 riEESIDE THOUGHTS. 

*' Woman," say they, *' has as much right to exercise 
authority as has man." If we admit the premises, the 
conclusion is inevitable, that to visit oppression is our 
duty. But is it true that woman's condition is really 
subordinate ! Man alone may wear the trappings of 
power; he alone may sit in legislative halls, and, by 
his voice, enact laws to bind his own and other lands; 
he alone may hold the reins of government, but does 
that prove the point? " That authority is greatest 
which is felt not seen." The man whose intellectual 
powers are regarded with awe, if candid, must ac- 
knowledge there is an influence, an authority to which 
even he is accustomed to yield. This is our power, 
and this is what we must lose if we become competi- 
tors of man for political distinction. It seems to me 
the loss must be much greater than the gain. If we 
exercise authority over those whose authority is nomi- 
nally supreme, what more could be desired, what more 
could be attained? Let us leave man undisturbed to 
enjoy his fancied supremacy, while we quietly main- 
tain that which is real. So long as we do this he does 
not object; for it is only the appearance about which 
he is so deeply concerned. It is when woman claims 
the right to vote, to be voted for, and such other for- 
mal power, that man rebels. It is only in a way not 
wounding to his pride that he will submit to be ruled. 
Since it is our intent to exercise the authority which 
is rightly ours, and since this can not be successfully 
accomplished by following in the path which leads to 
political glory ; let us revert to our place on the sands 



ESSAYS. 479 

and seek some way better suited to onr purpose. The 
very fact that our influence is so great, should make 
us the more careful in our selection. 

Here is one in which the tiny footprints tell no 
aspirant for immortal renown has passed this way. 
No great effort seems required to enter upon this 
path, or continue when once begun. Time's streams 
overwhelms it not with angry billows; but, upon 
many a light, caressing wave bears bright shells, as 
offerings to her feet. There glistening in the contin- 
ual sunshine of joy, lie the tokens of time's gentle 
touch. No hurry is indicated, but with music, dance 
and youthful gayety of every kind, she loiters on her 
way. She pauses to heed every whisper of admiration 
borne by the breezes from the lips of those whose 
paths run beside her own. Every moment is spent in 
cultivation and enjoyment of the beautiful; but she 
neglects entirely that conception closely allied, the 
true. Many who, for a time, adhere to her side, with- 
draw and address themselves to the pursuit of other 
objects. Their places are supplied by as many new 
admirers, whom she welcomes with scarcely a thought 
of those who have left. 

But why trace each step of her progress ? We see 
'tis but the path of one devoted to what the world 
calls pleasure. So long as this is the only end in view, 
each step is but a repetition of that which precedes. 
But further on, she seems to have grown weary of so 
many attendants, and goes accompanied by a single one. 
Side by side their paths advance-, till finally they are 



480 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

blended into one. No need io follow now I The way 
is no longer hers; for she must place her feet precisely 
where he, whom she has chosen as her guide, leaves his 
impress. Perhaps, she renders more distinct the way 
in which he treads ; but to him alone it is attributed. 
That only the world calls hers, over which she first 
proceeded. Is that a way which will win, from every 
one, a perfect approval? Is that a way in which wom- 
an's mission is best accomplished? If so, our labor 
of selection is at an end. A life of ease and gayety 
is agreeable to contemplate ; youthful pleasures are 
tempting ; admiration is pleasing, especially to the 
young ; if these are the highest aim of woman's life, 
the path before us is the one, Joyous music cheers 
each step, and the '* merry, merry marriage bells" 
applaud the last she makes alone. 

Shall we all decide to make this path our own ? It 
is short and easy, and hence enticing. Doubtless it 
would excite no great wonder, if we do make such a 
choice. But its very shortness seems to me an objec- 
tion, while the influence exerted is far from being the 
extent of woman's power. To the manner in which it 
terminates, of course, but few can object ; but may 
not the same end be attained by a road longer and 
more worth the following. At least, to attempt such 
a thing would be commendable. Man, by his ridicule, 
shows he thinks woman capable of something better ; 
but, despite his ridicule, even here her influence pre- 
vails. For the sake of her society he frequently 
neglects the pursuit of fame or distinction, becomes 



ESSAYS. 481 

himself a votary of pleasure. Thus, bj such a course, 
we diminish his worth, and consequently, lessen the 
value of the power we hold. Let us choose a course 
which will tend to excite in him a laudable ambition. 
This, we have seen, is not to be found in political con- 
test, nor yet in the ceaseless, senseless round of fashion, 
where then is it to be found ? Is there no path marked 
out which leads to such results ? One more let us fol- 
low to its close, and if it give not satisfaction, let us 
with independence choose the unbroken sands. 

This time we shall select the path which makes the 
greatest angle with the one last examined. Probably 
it will prove the one desired. Even on the highway 
where we ourselves have passed, this path may be 
traced. Even there it is, in a great measure, apart 
from the ordinary course. Whilst others had to plod 
with care lest they should wander from the way pre- 
scribed, she who made these footprints seems to have 
boldly stepped aside. But with that behind we have 
not now to do, To pass over that portion can never 
be our lot again ; so, let us contemplate her advance 
from the position we now occupy. 

Without the hesitation , plainly evinced in the march 
of others, she eagerly pushes forward. As if know- 
ing the attempt useless no one seeks to deter her; but, 
with admiration, all gaze upon her from afar. Her 
path, for awhile, winds through a verdant vale where 
beauty sits enthroned. She makes to herself a com- 
panion of every violet that blossoms at her feet. To 
her their's is a living language, and to their sentiments 

31 



482 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

her souls breathes a response. Each gliding stream, 
each sparkling fount, each warbling bird, each fleecy 
cloud, claims a share in her attention. Her buoyant 
spirit feels naught but joy in every smile or frown on 
Nature's brow. 

But not long is her path thus smooth and bright. 
Soon it becomes slightly rugged, while thickening 
clouds o'erhead involve each step in darkness. But 
she shrinks not back, nor changes once her course. 
The only change is in the objects of her care. From 
discoursing with the flowers she loved so well, she has 
turned to fellow travelers. In their distress they have 
appealed to her for help, and she nobly struggles on 
despite increasing difficulties. Darker and darker it 
becomes, till in obscurity every trace is lost. But a 
light breaks on the way, and, triumphantly standing 
upon an eminence, we see our heroine. Guided by 
some unseen power, with each hindrance overcome, 
she reaches forth her hand to pluck the golden bough, 
destined to open for her an entrance to the realms of 
immortal Fame. This magic bough, worth the labor 
of a lifetime, she has attained, and yet upon the way 
she has found time to extend a helping hand to many 
in their darkest hour. 

Have we not, at length, found a path upon which we 
may venture? Is there a single step to which an 
objection can be urged? Its earliest outset leads the 
youthful soul to close communion with nature, and 
through nature with God ; farther on, it guides the 
maturer spirit through the discipline which only effort 



ESSAYS. 483 

giyes; and lastly, by a way now hidden by some 
mysterious cause, it terminates where fame asserts her 
exclusive claim. By pursuing such a course, one must 
first inhale the devotion which nature ever breathes ; 
then gain the self-reliance which success in overcoming 
difficulties ever grants, and win at last, a name which, 
when uttered by the lip, or received into the ear of 
posterity, must awaken the desire to follow in the 
footprints of 

" The few, the immortal names, 
That were not born to die." 

But the question may be asked, ** Does it require 
but a mere determination of the will to enable one to 
tread in such a path ? Without the light of genius for 
a guide is it possible to traverse the greater portion of 
the way? This light dawns on only a favored few, 
and have we any assurance that any of us are of that 
number? In answer let me ask, have we any assurance 
that such is not the case? I wonder if she whose path 
we have just surveyed while standing here, could see 
where it would terminate ! Her first steps were 
prompted merely by the ardor of a soul which glowed 
with love for the Invisible Spirit, manifested in His 
glorious works. Is this zeal wanting in our own 
bosoms? If so, it is not the light of genius that we 
so much need ; but it is the pure beams of religion's 
sun. The light difiused from this never-setting orb is 
not exclusive, but shines on all who choose by it to 
direct their steps. What then need deter us from at 



484 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

least entering upon this way? It is true, even after 
attempting we may fail to reach the eminence desired, 
but we know without effort nothing ever can be 
gained. 

And now having decided in what way to direct our 
future steps, naught remains except to say " Good-by." 
Good-by to what? to whom? To our books? Doubt- 
less, in many a weary hour we each have longed for 
the time to come when we might bid adieu to such 
companions. But are we quite ready to leave them 
now? Let us remember what they have done for us. 
By a silent power they have brought us from our dis- 
tant homes to the happy communion of Hocker College ; 
they have led us daily to pleasant meetings in our 
recitation rooms, by the difficulties on their pages they 
have drawn our hearts closely, with a common bond. 
Can we now throw them aside with a careless good-by ?- 
We mustsTpeak parting words to college walls, we must 
endure the last pressure of each classmate's hand, but 
we need not say ' ' farewell ' ' to our books with their 
sweet, yet sad associations. We tnay retain them and 
we will, for they are sacred. 

But besides our books there has been an influence 
giving to each thought our books contained a living 
force. This is the influence exerted by the intellect, 
the wisdom, the goodness of our beloved teachers. 
And must this be included in the list of things with 
which we must part? No, no, it may and must live 
with us forever. But to our teachers themselves our 
good-by must extend. Words are inadequate to tell 



ESSAYS. 485 

the love, the gratitude, the sorrow that we feel. The 
attempt is vain. He who knows the thought of every 
heart will write in His book an utterance of the feel- 
ings we never can express, and on the grand Com- 
mencement Day of eternal happiness, in the Valedictory 
to every grief, it shall be read. 



ONLY WAITING. 

A SCHOOL girl's ESSAY. 

JHERE is no unmarried woman , let her be ever so 
old, who has fully decided never to marry, but 
each one is only waiting for the right chance." This 
remark was made to me not long since by a minister, 
a married man, with whom I was conversing. 

Now, from the first part of the proposition I shall 
not dissent ; I would only so modify it as to make it 
equally applicable to both sexes. Nor do I question 
the prudence of that woman who chooses to defer till 
"the right chance" offers, if by right chance she 
means one who will tend to make her life better, 
nobler, truer, more Christ-like. It is to the expression, 
♦' Only Waiting," that I wish to call your attention. 
Now, there is no need to define terms here. Every- 
one knows what only waiting means ; but in order to 
impress its meaning, let us draw a picture. 

Imagine, after a hurried preparation, in which half 
the hair pins fall from your trembling fingers ; in 



486 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

which buttons refuse to match the buttonholes of your 
dress; in which shoestrings will not lace without break- 
ing ; in which gloves become unmanageable, and are des- 
perately thrust into the pocket; imagine after such 
preparation, you are being driven, bare-handed, with 
hair tumbling down, in breathless haste to the station. 
It is almost the minute for the train, and your pulse 
beats quick, as you listen for its whistle to announce 
you too late. At last the depot is reached, just at the 
instant when you should be snatched up with scarcely 
time to say " Good-by, John I " — but you may 
breathe freely now ; the train is not even in sight. 
You are there fully equipped for the journey, so impa- 
tience takes the place of former suspense. You look 
now up, now down, the road, forgetting in your 
perplexity, which way your train should come. Per- 
haps after a quarter of an hour, you are philosopher 
enough to reflect that looking and longing will not 
hasten its coming. Seizing a paper, you determine to 
think no more about it, till its signal is heard. Here 
is ''Campaign in Mass," "Cheering Prospects for 
Greely," "Fashions for November," "Marriage in 
High Life," etc., some of which would, ordinarily be 
topics of absorbing interest. You read the first line, 
when you turn to attend to some commotion outside, 
and now, though your eyes may seek again the page, 
you are really only listening for the cry, " Train's 
coming! " Try ever so hard, you can not rid your- 
self of the thought, " I am only ivaiting^'^ and every 
other occupation becomes a pretense. 



ESSAYS. 487 

Now, I suppose, there is no one but has had an 
experience similar to this, and no one but can testify 
that this is no overdrawn picture ; yet this is the state 
in which our preacher, and perhaps the world in gen- 
eral, suppose every unmarried woman to be. Every 
nerve, they say, is strained to the utmost, in order that 
a girl may get through school by her eighteenth sum- 
mer, the due time for graduation, that synonym for 
announcing a young lady to be marriageable. Now, 
according to the ordinary course of events, a train of 
admirers should meet her here; and with scarcely 
time to bid adieu to the school girl, she appears before 
the world, a wife. 

But suppose (and such things have been) suppose 
the admirers do not come at due time. She has 
acquired the prescribed amount of education ; she has 
made her debut into society ; now, what is left for her? 
Why, of course, only waiting! She may, indeed, while 
away a few hours with her embroidery ; she may 
receive and return calls ; she may go to places of 
amusement ; but who, for once, would think of calling 
that a life-work? After all, it is only waiting, and, 
as one waiting for a train, mistakes each school-boy's 
whistle for its signal, so she receives each empty com- 
pliment as proof that her waiting is almost ended. 

Now, my sisters, this is the opinion the world has 
of us, and in many cases, I fear it is too near the 
truth. In this, however, is manifested the principle, 
that to the human soul an aim in life, a something bet- 
ter to anticipate, is indispensable. I see nothing weak 



488 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

or worthy of ridicule in the fact that a maiden looks 
forward to that state to which the Creator has destined 
her ; but what I do think unworthy of her is her 
treating the interim between her last day at school and 
her wedding-day as so much blank paper to be filled 
with illegible scribbling. If, instead of looking for- 
ward to marriage as the only object in life, she could 
have some other end in view, either involving mar- 
riage or not, woman would be both more useful and 
more contented. 

We all admit, theoretically at least, that we are 
on probation here, that we are " only waiting " till our 
Father calls us home. This, unlike all other waitings, 
requires of us a constant effort from the earliest 
moment of accountable existence till the instant the 
summons comes. Let us each embrace eagerly every 
opportunity for doing good; then, whatever may be 
our lot, we shall find ourselves perfectly adapted to its 
requirements. Let us never set our heart so entirely 
upon any one worldly object, that, failing therein, our 
whole life may be a worthless wreck. (1872). 



WHOM TO MAREY. 

O woman should ever marry a man to whom she 
can not, in her heart, say "My lord." Now, 
don't, my fair sisters, don't toss your heads with an air 
which says, " No man shall ever reduce me to such sub- 




ESSAYS. 489 

mission ; " but wait till I define my meaning. I think I 
can guess about what pictures my opening declaration 
has called to your mind. You are thinking of those 
beautiful wood-cuts in your geographies, with which 
you were familiar in childhood, those representations 
of the oriental husband and wife on a pleasure excur- 
sion, or fleeing from enemies. You see the poor 
woman trudging through the sands on foot, while he 
sits majestically astride his donkey looking, indeed, 
the " master of all he surveys." I say, you doubt- 
less call up this scene, and ask yourselves, "Would 
she have us do that way ? ' ' 

Or, again, the picture may be worse than that. 
Perhaps there rise before your mind's eye those Turk- 
ish women so shrouded by their immense veils that no 
eye save that of their despotic lord ever sees the love- 
liness of their form or face. Accustomed as you are 
to display what charms nature, or cunning art, may 
have given ; accustomed as you are to the delightful 
consciousness of being admired, I do not wonder if 
you ask with dismay, " Would she have us copy that 
model? " 

Again, coming to a higher type of civilization, you 
may recall what you have read of English wives. In 
England, as in every monarchy, all classes have a more 
profound reverence for their superiors than is ever seen 
in our country. So largely is the bump of veneration 
developed in the heads of most English wives that they 
are said studiously to avoid such a degree of mental 
culture as might detract from the spirit of humility 



490 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

and dependence, which they think should characterize 
their feelings towards their husbands. Now, you may 
ask, '* Is this what she would have us? " 

To all these, I answer "No." I do not ask one of 
you to take a trip on foot across a desert, or even 
across a blue grass pasture, while your husband rides ; 
I don't ask you to exchange your gauzy veil for a piece 
of muslin with eye-holes cut in it; nor, least of all, do 
I ask you, for fear of appearing strong-minded, to 
shrink from comprehending the first principles of 
mathematics. 

Having explained my position negatively, let me 
now define it positively. There is in first Peter a 
passage which says, " Wives, be in submission to your 
own husbands, even as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling 
him lord." Now, if we look into the domestic lives 
of Sarah and Abraham, we may learn what it means 
to call a husband " lord," or to feel such respect for 
him as might prompt you to call him lord. We do not 
find in Sarah such servile submission as to destroy her 
individuality. You remember when Abraham wished 
to protect himself by calling Sarah his sister, he does 
not command her to aid him in this deception ; he 
merely makes it a request. When Hagar grew inso- 
lent, Sarah did not tamely submit to being superseded 
by a servant, but prevailed with Abraham to cast out 
the bondwoman and her son. 

You see, then, my aim is not to subjugate you to the 
will of a tyrant, but to make you careful in selecting 
a companion for life, to choose one to whom your own 



ESSAYS. 491 

heart prompts you to say, " my lord." I consider it 
your solemn duty to live and die an old maid unless 
you find such an one. Is a man a tyrant, and accus- 
tomed to make unreasonable demands for the purpose 
of showing his authority? Then he is not the man. 
Is he naturally so deficient in mental power that his 
judgment of practical matters is less reliable than 
your own? He is not the man. But, worst of all, 
is he well enough endowed by nature, but in the 
habit of putting in " his mouth an enemy to steal 
away his brains?" Then, most emphatically, he is 
not the man. In short, no matter how rich, how hand- 
some, how stylish a man may be, unless he commands 
your profoundest respect, it is a sin to marry him. 

(1872.) 



SOLILOQUY OFA JUNIOE. 



Come back, or not come back? that is the question : — 

Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer 

The "blues" and heartaches of a school-girl's fortune, 

Or to pack trunks again next Friday morning, 

And, ne'er returning, end them? To go, to come 

No more, and by a going say we end 

The essays, and the thousand other pests 

We now are heir to, — 'tis a consummation 

Devoutly to be wished. But here we toil, 

We toil from day to day; ay, there's the rub; 

For in this life at school few restings come. 

When we have shuffled off one mental coil. 

That gives no pause. How long, how long 



492 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Must we endure this treadmill life! 

Now, who could bear with cheer such countless tasks; 

Such unnumbered wrongs; her classmate's eminence; 

The pangs of failure oft; the frequent " Nays." 

When "Yes" is what we wanted? I won't stayl 

E'en patience needeth not so severe a test; 

With three words I might my quietus make : 

♦' Ma, I'm homesick." I can no longer bear 

To grunt and sweat under this weary life, — 

But stop! There's dread of something after school I 

Can I forever stay with " Ma " and Pa? 

Ah! no; if not a school-girl, then a wife! 

I think I'd better bear the ills I have 

Than fly to others that I know not of. 

(1874). 




COMPANIONSHIP IN MAREIAGE. 



HAT does that mean?" say you. . It means 
something with which I have rarely met — some- 
thing of which I dreamed in girlhood — something for 
which I expect to strive till death ends all my longings. 
Why, you say, marriage necessarily implies compan- 
ionship. Oh ! yes ; a certain degree of comi^anionship 
is entailed by the marriage rite. The two, by force of 
custom live in the same house, put their earnings into a 
common treasury, expend these same earnings by mu- 
tual consent, partake of the same kind of fare, and a 
host of other things; but none of these is what I 
mean. 

The natural desire for companionship shows itself 
in the earliest childhood. My little girl, not yet four, 



ESSAYS. 493 

will cry for her little cousin to stay with her, and is 
perfectly happy when this is allowed. At school, when 
play-time comes, you'll see girls from the oldest to the 
youngest, go off in arm-locked pairs. The same de- 
sire impels the youth to choose some confidential chum 
among his schoolmates. You'll hear him say, "If 
John goes, I'll go; but if he can't go, I'll stay with 
him." This feeling makes the presence of the chosen 
companion essential to the full enjoyment of any good 
thing ; or makes his absence always a source of regret. 
You say, does not such feeling always exist between a 
wedded pair? On the contrary, so far as I can judge, 
it is the exception rather than the rule. Is the hus- 
band a farmer? Necessity keeps him from his wife 
all the working hours, and when his supper is eaten 
his tired body must betake itself to rest. But watch 
him when the working season is past, and hours of 
leisure begin to come. What kind of recreation does 
he seek? Something in which his wife can be with 
him, thus showing he regrets so much of the year must 
be spent apart from her? No; it's "Wife, neighbor 
Jones and I are going off on a fishing spree this week. 
I'll be back in time to harvest the grain. Black Jim 
and the cook will be company for you." Rich com- 
panionship indeed for a soul that thirsts for even one 
hour's interchange of unencumbered thought with the 
man whom she has chosen — the one to whom she has 
united her life for that very purpose. Her lips may 
utter no protest but her heart keeps saying, " Why 
will he not give this little time to me? Have I become 



494 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

SO unlovely that my society is no longer worth court- 
ing?" Wounded sorely, she looks for some panacea. 
Sometimes it is found in gossiping with neighbor Jones' 
wife who has a like pain gnawing at the chords which 
should make the music of her life ; sometimes she finds 
forgetf ulness in an exciting novel ; sometimes she ap- 
peals through her pen to a world of sympathizers. 

The merchant spends his evening hours at the club, 
or with his face behind the newspaper which the cigar 
in his mouth (to say nothing of the selfishness in his 
heart) prevents his reading aloud, while the wife is 
left to her own resources. 

The lawyer — well of all his briefs the briefest is 
the time he has for cultivating the acquaintance of his 
wife. The doctor, poor harassed man, like the preacher, 
belongs to the public. They are certainly the most 
excusable classes, for they must extend their sympa- 
thies over so wide a circle. How can they do more than 
provide in a hasty fashion for the physical wants of 
their families? But even the preacher needs an occa- 
sional sermon to keep him right He often becomes 
too fond of the duties which break in upon his home 
ties. If some poor dying sister is not in need of com- 
fort, then some rich brother wishes him to share a fine 
repast. In either case the wife, tied at homg by ma- 
ternal cares, gets only crumbs of attention. 

Maybe you would like to know what is my ideal of 
wedded companionship. "Well, I would purify the 
physical communion which always exists by a larger 
admixture of the intellectual and spiritual. I would 



ESSAYS. 495 

have the husband leave the wife only when duty calls ; 
when it is a mere matter of choice, I would see the 
wife's society preferred to any other. Is there a new 
book to be read? Let them read it together; or, if 
that is impracticable, let one read it and tell the con- 
tents to the other. Do not wait to discuss such things 
with some one else to whom you wish to display your 
learning. Is there some principle of morals or relig- 
ion in regard to which the husband is in doubt ? Let 
him ask his wife to consider it, instead of ignor- 
ing her and flying for assistance to some brother divine. 
Is the preacher burning with zeal to counsel the way- 
ward ? Let him help his wife to overcome her faults 
and not leave her to fight the battle of life alone ; 
and let him ask in return that she help prune away that 
which hinders his own true development. Does he 
delio-ht to follow his Master in the work of consoling: 
the afflicted? Let him not be blind to the fact that his 
own wife needs consolation. 

In short, I may not make myself clear, but I know 
marriage, as a rule, does not furnish that companion- 
ship which Christ meant when he said the man shall 
cleave unto his wife. There is doubtless another side 
to the question. It may sometimes be the wife who 
fails to cultivate this companionship. If so, let some 
good brother tell us wives wherein are our delinquen- 
cies. If I were a preacher., I'd have this the subject 
for every fourth sermon till the world is made to think 
of it. It is more important than even the temperance 
question, for intemperance grows out of neglecting 
the wife's companionship. .(1881). 



496 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 



"THE LORD GOODNESS!" 

^NE moraing about six weeks ago, I took a <' bus " 
for the early train from Lexington to Frankfort. 
My brother, my little girl, and myself were the only 
occupants when we started, but on the next square we 
picked up an old gentleman who had detained us 
several minutes. 

" Drive round by the Times office," was his hurried 
direction to the driver, *'I've sent my boy around 
there to get a package to take with me." 

Soon the Times office was reached, and there stood 
the boy on the pavement in front of the door. 
*' Not open yet," said the boy, as the driver stopped. 
** The Lord goodness ! " exclaimed our white-haired 
companion, as he descended to the pavement. 

" Drive on, I shall have to wait, and maybe be too 
late for the train." 

I had thought his face seemed familiar when he first 
joined us, and I had not ridden a square before 
I recognized him as a preacher of the Gospel 
I have heard him preach only one sermon, but 
his writings are among my weekly readings. From 
these two sources I am convinced that his mind 
is well • stored with Bible knowledge. Can it be that 
with all his knowledge, he has never learned the com- 
mand, '•' Do not take the name of the Lord thy God in 
vain ? ' ' But I have often been forced to ask this 



ESSAYS. 497 

question in regard to otherwise excellent and cultivated 
people. ' ' My Lord ! " or " O Lordy ! " is the favorite 
by- word of many, who, like this aged brother, are 
teachers of the Word. These good people would be 
shocked at such oaths as fall from the lips of a regular 
blasphemer; yet the most violent oath is more con- 
sistent with the character of such a man than are the 
former exclamations with the requisite purity of the 
Christian. My little four-year-old caught this use of 
the Lord's name from persons who profess to honor it. 
I have had to punish her severely to break the evil 
habit. She was talking about it just now, and she 
says " Peoples mus'nt say the Lord and the God only 
when they pray." I thank God for a Christian 
mother from whose lips these words never fell except 
in tones of deepest reverence. May my speech be as 
chaste as hers ; as fit a model for my children to 
imitate. 



PURITY OF SPEECH. 

"Keep your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking 
guile." — Ps. xxxiv:13. 

T our late Sunday-school Convention, while my 
cheeks burnt with shame at an anecdote related 
by one of the speakers, and laughed at by well nigh 
the whole house, there occurred to ray mind the above 
text. I never in my life heard a sermon on this sub- 

32 



498 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

ject, yet it is an exhortation with which all classes 
need to be impressed. In my girlhood, I remember 
there were schoolmates whose glowing lips seemed 
framed for utterance of only purest thoughts, yet from 
those lips there often fell such words as I could not 
recall without a blush. Strange to say, such girls were 
always popular — their companionship sought by girls 
who would not copy their expressions, perhaps, but 
who would applaud and thus encourage the impurity 
of speech. Often, too, those who first were pleased 
listeners became copyists and rivals in the merchandise 
of vulgar words, phrases and anecdotes. From this 
contamination I was saved, in the main, by the example 
and admonition of a pure-minded mother; but once 
the desire to be " smart " got possession of me, and, 
in presence of one of the " big girls," I used one of 
her impure by-words. She turned upon me a look I 
shall never forget, and said, — 

" Why, Dora, I did not think that of you ! " 
Never did I feel more deeply a rebuke. I saw that, 
instead of elevating myself, I had fallen even in the esti- 
mation of the girl whom I was trying to imitate. The 
remembrance of my shame upon that occasion has 
served as a restraint upon all my subsequent life. 

Now, it seems to me a preacher should be in all 
things an example to all other men. The. vilest man, 
when in the presence of a preacher, instinctively keeps 
his lips from speaking guile, and, of course, he expects 
purity to characterize all the preacher says. If the 
preacher, on the contrary, degrades himself by indulg- 



ESSAYS. 499 

ing in anecdotes which must minister to the lower 
nature, it awakens in his listener just such a feeling as 
my schoolmate expressed toward me — a feeling of 
surprise, of disappointment, of disgust. The tempta- 
tion comes to the preacher just as it did to me. The 
love of applause is born in us every one, and it will 
never die; for we will long for it, most of all, in that 
great day when He who is the source of all purity will 
judge us by our words. At a big convention every 
body wants to make the biggest speech. Some natur- 
ally witty man gains favor by his timely hits, so that 
his appearance on the floor is but a signal for a smile 
of pleased anticipation to brighten every face. A 
brother preacher feels, " Pshaw ! if I had a chance, I 
could get up a greater sensation than that fellow who 
thinks himself so sharp." The chance comes, and an 
anecdote — no new, untried afiair, but one whose effi- 
cacy has more than once been tested — is the result. 
Amid the consequent laughter, the grieved surprise, 
the disappointment and disgust escape the speaker's 
notice ; no one does for him what my candid school- 
mate did for me, and he is left to repeat his mistake 
wherever he can again make that anecdote to fit. 

Now, perhaps some one will say, " While preaching 
one text you violate another — you are judging your 
brother." I only attribute to him a weakness long 
since discovered in myself — a discovery for which I 
thank that schoolmate of childhood days. 

(1882.) 



500 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

ESSAY READ IN LITERARY SOCIETY. 

elocution. 

April 4, 1884. 



,HE older members of this society may remember 
that, from time to time, in presence of this body, 
I have read a series of essays on the Fine Arts. 
Among all these essays I have never written one on 
the subject of Elocution, though it, more perhaps 
than any of its sister arts, tends to beautify, refine, 
and ennoble the life. I think there is no better way to 
define this art, or science, than by presenting it in the 
person of James E. Murdoch, its .greatest living rep- 
resentative. My life has been so full of to-day's 
activities as to leave little time for the indulgence of 
dreams, yet a few have I cherished. One of these was 
realized on the evening of March 31st, and the realiz- 
ation was in this wise. 

At eight p. m. I found myself the occupant of a 
favorable seat in the parquette of the Lexington Opera 
House. On my left were the Hamilton girls, to be 
recognized by their fur caps, gray cloaks, and black 
dresses, together with the well known school girl look 
of caged impetuosity; on my right, were as many 
University boys, whose ranks, unbroken by a single 
fairer face, looked a loneliness responsive to that of 
the other group ; in the rear were professors, lawyers, 
doctors, preachers, and their wives; in short, a goodly 



ESSAYS. 501 

number of Lexington's most cultivated citizens. The 
gallery was but little occupied, for there were no cheap 
tickets, and the small boy had been warned that if 
he should dare to whistle, hiss, or otherwise disturb the 
audience, he would be taken out — so he didn't come. 

But a subdued clapping of hands called attention to 
the stage on which now appeared President Loos, ac- 
companied by a venerable man, laden with what looked 
like a pile of sheet music. In a few well chosen words, 
President Loos introduced to the audience, " James E. 
Murdoch, the acknowledged master of the art of 
Elocution, to whose instruction and example the best 
actors of the day owe all their reputation." At the 
close of these remarks Mr. M. came forward with 
a short bow, and began instantly to arrange the book- 
rest and lamp, adjusting both to his eye. From the 
package which he had deposited on a chair beside him, 
he now drew one folio, which proved to be, not sheet 
music, but bunches of manuscript, containing his 
various selections with intervening comments. 

His first utterance dispelled the fear that age had 
enfeebled the voice which has so often held spell- 
bound the peoples of our own and of trans-Atlantic 
cities. 

"I shall read first," he said, "from the thirty- 
eighth and thirty-ninth of Job." 

This he said as simply as if he were a preacher read- 
ins: from his accustomed desk. His tone and manner 
were in such harmon}^ with the awe and reverence 
expressed in the words, that in these sentiments the 



502 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

reader was forgotten. In striking contrast with this 
was the next selection, " The Prodigal Son." This 
being a simple narrative, was read in a simple, conver- 
sational style, and I doubt not, every Bible student 
present was making the mental comment : — 

"That's nothing wonderful ; I could do that well 
myself ; ' ' yet in its simplicity was its excellence. 

Next came a poem by T. Buchanan Reid, entitled 
" Drifting." I had never heard it before, and happy 
is the poet who may be introduced to the public by 
such a master of rhythm as is James E. Murdoch. 
" Drifting " expresses the longing of its composer for 
the sight once more of the Bay of Naples, or, as he terms 
it, the Vesuvian Bay, and so full does he become of, 
his theme that he imagines himself dreamily drifting 
over the gently swelling waters, and the hearer, 
rocked by the regular meters so beautifully brought 
out by the reader, falls into a trance of kindred 
nature, till one sees again the far away Italian sky, 
the rising, fleecy vapor of Vesuvius, the crescent city, 
and the sail-be-dotted bay. 

We come now to Hamlet, the part in which Mr. Mur- 
dock has so often been the star. It is the. tragic in 
which Mr. M. most delights. He throws in enough of 
the lighter compositions to simply relieve the audience. 
He began with the soliloquy in which Hamlet gives 
vent to his disgust at the indecent haste of his mother's 
second marriage; gave next the closet scene in which 
he makes his mother see her own moral hideousness, 
and during which he kills old Polonius, mistaking him 



ESSAYS. 503 

for the king. The expression of his face when he is 
interrupted by the ghost, is beyond description, full, 
at once of terror at the supernatural, reverence for his 
father's image, and dread of the father's reproof for 
his own indecision. 

Here he stopped to make a few comments. 

" In this play," he said, " we have two extremes of 
character and also their happy mean, in the persons of 
Hamlet, Laertes and Horatio. Gloomy Hamlet is all 
thought, no action ; impulsive Laertes is all action, no 
thought ; but calm Horatio's every act is prompted by 
reflection." 

Hamlet's words to Horatio express this opinion 
of the latter, and show how the gloomy, rest- 
less nature delights to stay itself by friendship with 
one of cheerful sturdiness. In the familiar soliloquy 
on committing suicide, Murdoch's tone and air of 
deep abstraction were inimitable. It seemed to me 
those words : — 

" To be, or not to be? that is the question," were 
never before so full of meaning. The scene at the 
grave of Ophelia was the closing selection of the play, 
and here the pronounced madness of Hamlet was no 
less truly rendered than were all the other char- 
acteristics. 

I forgot to mention one episode in the early part of 
the programme, namely, the withdrawal of Mr. M. to 
the dressing-room to get his overcoat which the chilli- 
ness of the room rendered necessary. As he turned to 
walk across the stage I noticed for the first time, that 



504 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

his fine form is somewhat bent by age, and that the 
hand of time has brushed to scantiness his once luxu- 
riant locks. But in the personations of Hamlet, his 
perfect absorption in the character lends his face the 
glow of youth, and you can imagine yourself in pres- 
ence of the veritable Prince of DenmarJi. 

It was now time for something humorous to relieve 
his rapt listeners, so he gave us next the exploits of 
one Tom King, in former days a noted player of 
pranks in the city of London. It was upon a French- 
man Tom played the trick of ringing his bell at two 
o'clock at night, and when the poor man, yawning, 
and bowing came to the door, Tom pretended he only 
wished to know if a certain Mr. Thomas lived in that 
house. Politely, but with interrupting yawns, the 
Frenchman answered. 

*' No, monsieur, no Mr. Thomas here.' 

The next night at the same hour, Tom comes again, 
and this time, surprise renders less smoothly polished 
the Frenchman's reply. In short, Tom repeats the 
trick, night after night, till finally in rage the victim 
becomes unable to control his language into its ac- 
customed even channels, and it is marvelous how 
the varying shades of surprise, anger, desperation, 
and final terror take possession of the tormented 
Frenchman. 

Time fails me to tell in detail of the two remaining 
readings, the one the poem of " Virginia," by Macau- 
ley, the other an extract from *' Pickwick." Suffice it 



COREESPONDENCE. 505 

to say, in whatever character Mr. M. appeared, in that 
he seemed most at home, and the secret of it all was 
his fidelity to nature. To have heard him is an event 
in one's life, and my experience of that Monday eve- 
ning is one of those things of which it may be said, 
*'A thing of beauty is a joy forever." 



A MEMORABLE COREESPONDENCE. 

Excelsior Institute, March 8, 1880. 
Prof. H. W. Longfellow: 

J^S EAR SIR — Compared with the aggregate of praise 
(c^T^ heaped upon you by an admiring nation,! know 
any single tribute must be counted an infinitesimal ; 
but I wish to tell you that the enthusiasm of the 
27th reached beyond the confines of the larger cities. 
Five miles south of Kentucky's capital, there has been 
chartered, by the present Legislature, a school under 
the name of Excelsior Collegiate Institute. Within 
the walls of this institution, on the 27th of February, 
there were several hours devoted to reading, reciting 
and singing the choicest tracings of your inspired pen. 
The aim was to fill young hearts with pure thoughts, 
such as gleam from every page of " Evangeline," from 
every line of " Resignation," from every word of the 
"Builders." 



506 FIKESIDE THOUGHTS. 

When the celebration was first proposed, one young 
man of the vicinity asked, — 

" Why does Mrs. S. wish to keep the birthday of a 
horse? " 

You may have heard of the noted Kentucky racer 
which bears your name, and hence understand the 
youth's mistake. I propose holding annually this 
birthday festival, and hope through this medium, the 
young of the community . may become more familiar 
with literature, and less absorbed in blooded horses. 

We are just beginning to ascend the heights with 
that ' ' banner of the strange device ; ' ' the way is steep 
and long ; will you send a word of cheer to my band 
of "Alpine Climbers? " 

Yours with much deference, 

E. L. South. 



the reply. 

Cambridge, March 11, 1880. 



Dear Madam: 

2^ 



AM much obliged to you for your letter, and for 
(^ the honor paid me by your institute on the 27th 
of February, my birthday. 

The anecdote of the gallant race horse, bearing my 
name, is very amusing. I hope you did not undeceive 
the young man, but left him to his pleasant delusion. 
Perhaps he thought that as Pindar had celebrated the 
Olympic and Pythiau horse races, you and your pupils 



ESSAYS. 507 

were going to do something of the same kind. You 
might have told him, that this famous steed, with 
wings on his feet, instead of his shoulders, was a kind 
of Pegassus ; which would have doubtless increased his 
confusion of ideas. 

But the story is a good one as it stands, and needs 
no improvement. Thanking you and your pupils for 
your kind remembrance, and your manner of showing 
it, I am dear madam, 

Yours very truly, 

Henet W. Longfellow. 



508 riKESIDE THOUGHTS. 



TRANSLATIONS. 

HOPE. 
FROM THE GERMAN OP SCHILLER. 

Forever and ever the people say, 

"To-morrow will find us better; 
Let's tear ourselves from a joyless to-day, 

Let's break its torturing fetter! " 
The world grows old, and again grows young, 
But ever is joy on to-morrow hung. 

'Tis Hope that leads us along thro' life : 
E'en in childhood her footsteps we follow; 

She lures the stripling to constant strife ; 
Age invokes her in accents hollow. 

When we end in the grave life's weary race. 

On our tombstones even Hope leaves her trace. 

She is no spectral, delusive shade, . 

No lunatic's fantasy shifting; 
Each by her guidance is better made, 

Her touch every burden uplifting. 
The gladsome tones of her inner voice 
Ever are bidding the soul rejoice. 



(1881). 



WOMAN. 



In passing through Germany an American is always 
impressed by the servile condition of woman. Her 
head seems made for no better purpose than to bear 
the weight of huge baskets ; humbly she trudges along 
in harness with a dog or a donkey, drawing a cart laden 



TRANSLATIONS. 509 

with milk and vegetables. To think of poetry in con- 
nection with such servitude, seems incongruous; so I 
was much struck by the following poem, whose origi- 
nal was encountered among a collection of Schiller's 
shorter poems : — 

Honor to woman, for ever she's twining 
Eoses celestial midst earthly repining, 

Wreathing each garland with love's silken band; 
Modestly veiling the grace she's bestowing, 
Fires of pure feeling she keeps ever glowing, 

Tending them daily with holiest hand. 

Out of truth's sure pathway dashing, 

Eushes man with maddening force; 
Thoughts unsteady, by their lashing, 

Urge o'er passion's sea his course. 
Eager grasps he in the distance — 

Never stilled his longing heart — - 
Through the stars without resistance 

Him impels each phantom's art. 

Woman, with tenderest glances recallinjf, 
Eescues the wanderer, hinders his falling. 

Luring him back in her presence to rest. 
Nature, her mother, affords her protection — 
rills her pure soul with contented affection, 

Blessing this daughter — her truest and best. 

Fiend-like man is endless striving, 

With destructive envy's power, 
Wildly through his lifetime driving, 

Finding rest — no not an hour — 
What he does at once destroying, 

Constant to his love of strife, 
Hydra-like his strength employing 

To renew its failing life. 



510 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Woman, delighted in narrowest bowers, 

Culls from each moment its choicest of flowers. 

Lovingly gives them her tenderest care ; 
Freer tho' bounded by limits confining, 
Kicher than man in true wisdom's divining, 

Kicher in Poesy's heritage fair. 

Strong and proud, on self relying, 

Naught of feeling stirs man's soul; 
Every tender thought defying 

Naught he knows of love's control — 
Never knows the heart's deep anguish, 

Never melts in tears of pain; 
All the soft emotion's languish. 

Hindered by his strugglings vain. 

Look tho' how lightly, by zephyrs e'en shaken, 
Quick the ^olian harp will awaken : 

Such is the soul to her womanhood true ; 
Grief to her vision, tho' faintly depicted, 
Wells up a fountain of love unrestricted. 

Pearling the eyes with a heavenly dew. 

In the field of man's contention 

Might succeeds instead of right 
Scythia's sword, by intervention, 

Turns the Persian host to flight; 
Passions wild and rude controlling 

Wars declare and deadly wage,. 
High the waves of Discord rolling 

Till calm waters seethe with rage. 

■But with the gentlest of tones, full of pleading, 
Woman for mercy and peace interceding. 

Heals the dissension which death could not heal; 
Hatred from f oemen her touch soon effacing. 

Love thus induced, unites with embracing 
Those that before, naught but hatred could feel. 

(1881). 



TRANSLATIONS . .511 

LONGING. 
FEOM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. 

Ah ! from out this vale of sorrow, 

Where the chilling mists oppress, 
Could I, on some bright to-morrow. 

Upward rise where pleasures bless 1 
. See those hills all clad in beauty, 

Ever gladdening to the sight ! 
Could I break the chain of duty, 

Toward those hills I'd take my flight. 

Tones melodious hear I ringing — 

Tones of sweetest heavenly peace, 
And the sportive winds are bringing 

Balmy scents that never cease. 
Golden fruits I see all glowing, 

Glancing 'tween the darksome leaves, 
Flowers there forever blowing 

Dread no low'ring wintry eves. 

There the daytime ever pleases. 

For the sun gives endless light. 
And refreshing May-day breezes 

Visit us from every height. 
But the stream of Death restraining, 

EoUs its water dark between, 
And my soul in fear refraining, 

Dares not venture on the scene. 

1881). 



THE DIVISION OF THE EAETH. 

TRANSLATED PROM SCHILLER. 

"Take now the earth," cried Jove from highest heaven 
To man below. " It is henceforth your own; 

To you and yours in endless lease 'tis given; 
Like brethren, now, divide my loan." 



512 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Then hasted each to claim the part assigned; 

Full busy with his lot both young and old: — 
His sheaves the tiller of the soil entwined; 

Thro' wood and glen sped hunter bold; 

The tradesman rich with goods his warehouse stored; 

With care the abbot pressed his mountain wine; 
The king stretched bridges where the torrents roared, 

And said, " I claim the toll for mine." 

Long after all these earthly goods were parted, 
Appeared the poet, tardy, on the scene ; 

Oh! luckless, dreamy mortal, broken-hearted, 
There's nothing left for you, I ween. 

" Woe! woe is me I " he cried, to Jove complaining, 
"Forgotten, tho' thy most devoted son! " 

"Hold! " answered Jove, his bitter words restraining, 
"How has it chanced this thing was done? " 

" While in your dream-land you have idly slumbered, 

The god your gift misplaced ; but blame not me — 
Say, where were you when each his portion numbered? " 
"I was," the poet said, " by thee." 

" Thy face, celestial fair, mine eyes beholding, 

The harmonies of heaven in mine ear, 
My spirit after holy patterns molding 

For earthly things I felt no fear." 

"My son," said Jove, "the earth away is given. 
Its fruits, its chase, its marts are mine no more; 

Can you, content, beside me dwell in heaven? 
Come when you will, you'll find an open door." 

(1881). 

STABAT MATER DOLOROSA. 

FKOM THE LATEST OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTUBT. 

Stood the Mother, mourning, crying, 
Near the Cross, whereon, now dying, 
Hung her much beloved Son; 



TEANSLATIONS. 513 

Through her spirit agonizing, 
All her soul in grief baptizing, 
Pierced the sword her honor won, 

Ohl how deeply then distressed 
Was the Holy Mother, blessed 

Of the one begotten Son, 
Seized with trembling and lamenting. 
"With an anguish near dementing. 

Gazed she on the Noble One. 

Who's the man from tears refraining 
Sees the Mother, uncomplaining. 

Bow beneath the scourging rod? 
Who so hard, unsympathizing. 
Sees her bear this sore chastising, 

Suffering with the Son of God? 

For this sinful race enduring 
Torments, thus their peace securing, 

Sees she Jesus tortured there — 
Sees her darling Son expiring. 
Desolate from earth retiring. 

Yield His spirit to the air. 

Eount of love, oh! let me borrow 
From thy depths a kindred sorrow. 

Let me, Mother, mourn with thee ; 
Let my heart, all coldness spurning, 
With the love of Christ be burning — 

Then well pleased he'll look on me. 

Pierce my heart, O Holy Mother, 
With the wounds of Christ, the Brother 

That for me was crucified ; 
Worthy of my love unbounded 
Is that Son for me so wounded — 

With me all His pains divide. 

Make me weep with thee condoling. 
For thy loss thy heart consoling, 
Till these tears my soul revive ; 
98 



514 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Near the Cross with thee abiding, 
To me all thy griefs confiding, 
Make me weep beyond control. 

Thou all virgins else excelling. 
Greet me not with looks repelling — 

Let me with thee moan and wail; 
Make me, still Christ's passion sharing, 
Always round His death be bearing, 

That His wounds may much avail. 

Make my soul intoxicated 
With a love alone created 

By the Holy Cross, I pray. 
Ardent made by grace extended. 
May I, Virgin, be defended 

By thee in the Judgment Day. 

Saved because the Christ hath perished, 
By His grace forever cherished. 

Be the Cross my constant shield; 
When, at length, this body dieth, 
When 'mid dust of earth it lieth, 

To thy charge this soul I'll yield. 



(1882). 



THE VIRGIN MOTHER. 

The following is a translation from a Latin poem 
of the thirteenth century, a companion piece to " Sta- 
bat Mater Dolorosa." While the one celebrates the 
"Woes of Mary," the other portrays her "Joys." 
The latter seems to be a kind of parody of the 
former : — 

Stood the mother, vigil keeping 
Where her mangered babe lay sleeping. 
Beauteous in his sweet repose ; 



TRANSLATIONS. 515 

Joy her bosom permeated, 
Hope her spirits high elated, 
Boding naught of future woes. 

How absorbing the emotion 
Of the mother's pure devotion 

To the one begotten Son! 
How with joy and exultation, 
Eull of holiest adoration, 

Gazed she on the Noble One. 

Where's the man could see Christ's mother 
Thus rejoicing, yet could smother 

Promptings to a kindred joy? 
Who is there with soul phlegmatic 
Views her now in joys ecstatic, 

Playing with her Infant boy? 

For the sins of man made lowly, 
Sees she Christ, an infant holy, 

'Mid the beasts of burden laid ; 
With the cold she sees him crying, 
Yet adores him, helpless lying 

Where his humble bed she made. 

"Born is Christ within a mangerl " 
Sing the angels o'er the stranger, 

With a heavenly joy intense — 
Stood the old men then enraptured, 
Ear of maid the sound encaptured, 

Pilling all with mute suspense. 

Mother, font of love eternal, 

Let me share that joy supernal- 
Pill me with its ardent glow! 

Make my heart with joy up-welling, 

On Christ's love forever dwelling. 
Daily in His favor grow. 

Mother, grant me this petition. 
To receive by thy transmission 
Wounds of Christ within my heart; 



516 riRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

With thy Son from Heaven descended, 
By so many griefs attended, 
Let me bear an equal part. 

May I, by thy Son protected, 
By the word of God elected, 

Be redeemed through pardoning grace. 
Though to dust this body moulder, 
Let my soul, an awed beholder, 

Gaze upon His glorious face. 



Evening came, then morn unbidden^ 

Never, never stood I still. 
Yet remained forever hidden 

What I sought and longed for still. 



(1828). 



THE PILGKIM. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHrLLER. 

Still my life its spring was spending, 

When I forth a wanderer went; 
But my youth, its dance soon ending, 

Lost the joy its home-life lent. 

All my portion I rejected, 

Trusting threw it all away. 
And, my pilgrim staff selected, 

Forth I went from home astray. 

Then a mighty hope upheld me. 

And a mystic Faith which said, 
** Onward, ever! " and impelled mo 

Toward an opening just ahead. 

Till, at last, a golden portal 

I should reach, and enter in; . 

Then the earthly made immortal, i 

I the pilgrim's goal should win. ■■ 



1 



TEANSLATIONS. 517 

Mountains then my way encumbered, 

Streams restrained my eager feet, 
Bridges built I, then, unnumbered 

Over gorge and river fleet. 

Last I reached a stream whose flowing 

Beckoned toward the rising sun; 
On its tide myself then throwing , 

Soon its quiet course I'd run. 

To the ocean vast it bore me, 

By its water's gentle play; 
But the space stretched out before mo. 

Showed no goal to end my way. 

And no bridge can lead me ever 
Where the Heaven which seems soneaTi 

Joins the earth, for never, never, 
Place of rest finds pilgrim here. 

(1882). 



DIES IRAU. 

TRANSLATED TEOM THE LATIN OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY. 

Day of wrath — that day dissolving. 
All the worlds in space revolving, 
David's word from doubt absolving, 

Soon thy trumpet widely sounding. 
Through sepulchral vaults resounding, 
I'orth shall call Death's hosts abounding. 

Nature's self that sound surprising, 
Sees, transfixed, the dead uprising, 
God His Power thus exercising. 

Then the Book of Life, containing 
Sins unpardoned yet remaining, 
Shall convict those Christ disdaining. 



518 FIEESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Por the Judge All-wise, perceiving 
Hidden sins His Spirit grieving, 
Shall condemn beyond reprieving, 

Scarce the righteous aught demanding, 
Where shaU wretched I be standing? 
What of patronage commanding? 

King Majestic, awe-inspiring. 
Thou who savest by grace untiring, 
Save me, is my prayer expiring. 

For the sake, O Christ forgiving. 
Of the pangs endured while living, 
Save me, then, full pardon giving. 

Weary hast thou grown, me seeking, 
From thy cross redemption speaking: 
ShaU it be in vain — this seeking? 

Thou who hast poor Mary pardoned, 
And the thief in sin so hardened, 
WUi thou me yet leave unpardoned? 

Midst thy sheep a station granting, 
From the goats my soul transplanting, 
Save me, all thy wrath recanting. 



(1882). 



THE BROOKLET. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHB. 

O Brooklet, silver bright and clear. 
Why haste you ever past me here? 
Upon thy bank I stand and ask, 
"Your coming whence? Where ends your task? ** 

From lap of darksome rock I toss. 
My course I take o'er flower and moss; 
Within my mirror clear and bright, 
Tou see reflected Heaven's light. 



TEANSLATIONS. 519 



My joyous spirit, free from care, 
Me onward drives, I know not where; 
He who has called me from the stone 
Will be my guide, nor leave me lone. 



(1882.) 



SAYINGS OF CONEUCIUS. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. 

Threefold is the step-of time: 
Laggard Future patience wasteth; 
Arrow-like the Present hasteth; 
Void of motion stands the Past sublime. 

No impatience dught can quicken 
Step of first, which -will delay; 
Tho' a fear or doubt may sicken. 
Not for this the Now will stay ; 
No repentance, tho' unshaken 
Can the Past to change awaken. 

Would you, happy, blest, and wise, 
End this life with fewest sighs? 
Heed the Laggard not, who sayeth, 
"Time I give him who delayeth; " 
Choose not first the fleeting Present, 
Make the Past no foe unpleasant. 



CI 883.) 



MISCELLANEOUS AND OEIGINAL POEMS. 

SNOWDRIFTS. 
Beautiful snowdrifts, so spotlessly white, 
Brightly ye sparkle like mountains of light. 
Glittering sunbeams fly swift to your crests. 
Fondly ye fold them with joy to your breasts; 
Dreaming no evil ye slumber in bliss. 
Gladly returning their every kiss. 



520 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Piercingly bright, in your bosoms tbey creep, 

Arrow-like entering silent and deep — 

Treacherous rays 1 through your heartstrings they wind, 

Source of your loveliness searching to find, 

Envious e'en of the crystals whose glow 

Crowns you with beauty, ye queens of the snow. 

Innocent, joyous, you greet each caress 
Glowing anew with the warmth they express; 
Soon will they flee the embrace of your arms. 
Leaving you shrunken, bereft of all charms ; — 
Loveliness fled ! Ah! how deep we deplore. 
Queens crowned with beauty we'll call you no more. 

Purity, thus, in her garments of snow, 
Flattered by notice the evil bestow, 
Oft their advances will greet with delight, 
Till, all polluted — ohi piteous sight! 
Eobes once so fair all bedraggled in mire 
Bear no resemblance to Virtue's attire. 



(1867). 



TEIUMPH OF FAITH. 

The clouds are weeping while I weep, 
The rain-drops mingle with my tears ; 

The wind is wailing, while I sigh 
O'er thought of bright and by-gone years. 

The sky is, like my soul, in clouds, 
A gloom as deep o'er each is spread; 
But weeping gives us each relief. 
So we our tears and rain-drops shed. 

My spirit, like the murmuring wind, 
Breathes out a low and sad refrain; 
But sighs from bursting keep my heartj 
Its throbbings, sighs, in part restrain. 

it * * *l * * H 



POEMS. 521 



Bat now a light refulgent breaks, 
The clouds of gloom asunder part, 
A gentle hand wipes 'way my tears, 
A voice of love soothes aching heart. 

The clouds still weep, but every drop 
Is now with brilliant hues aglow; 
The sun shines out from rifted clouds, 
Wide spreads his wings the radiant bow. 

And now " His Promise " I recall. 
The Savior mildly whispers "Peace," 
And now the tears of gladness fall, 
Tor He from care can grant release. 



(1869). 



SYMPATHY. 

If there's aught in life's that's bitter, 

If there's aught demands a tear, 
Seems to me there's nothing fitter 

Than the thought " There's no one near, 
Who my work can rightly measure. 

Who my heart can rightly cheer." 

Many times, alas I this feeling 

O'er me casts a shadow chill; 
Many times the thought comes stealing, 

" Ohl for one this void to fill! " 

Can it be the Lord intended 

Ne'er my heart this joy should thrill? 
******** 

Pardon, Lord, the thought, oh! pardon. 

Is there no one feels my care? 
One there is no chance can harden; 

One there is all aches can share — 
*Tls the heart of Jesus Blessed — 

Let me tell him all in prayer. 

(1880). 



522 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 



THE SACRED FEAST. 

Break the loaf with trembling finger; 
Round the Cross let memory linger. 
O, my soul, with deep emotion, 
View the proof of Christ's devotion. 

Drink the cup with feelings saddened; 
Drink it, too, with spirit gladdened; — 
Sad, because the Lord hath sorrowed. 
Glad, because of hope thus borrowed. 

Dare you smile? Be very careful 

That your thoughts are deeply prayerful; — 

Pray, because of sins committed, 

Pray that these may be remitted. 

By this bond of holy union 
Hold with Christ a sweet communion; 
Do not break the tie asunder. 
Which e'en makes the angels wonder. 

(1880). 



A PRAYER. 

Oh! that I could perfect be, 
Holy Father, like to Thee ; 
Every weakness I deplore. 
Erring yet forevermore. 

Weary of myself I've grown, — 
Can I, Lord, e'er be thine own? 
'Less thy spirit in me bide. 
Thine I'm not, these faults to hide. 

Hateful am I to my sight; 
Help me, Lord, to do the right. 
Something ever clogs my will, 
When I world rise yet higher stUl. 



i 



POEMS. 523 



In tliy Word a mirror true, 
All my sinfulness I view; 
From the loathed sight I turn, 
For a purer life I yearn. 



TOO LATE. 

A SCEAP. 

Know the hour is coming soon, 
In the morning, night, or noon, 
When our hands shall folded lie, ' 
When we've breathed our latest sigh: 
Then, too late, we'll learn the need 
Of each now neglected deed. 



WHY DO I TEACH SCHOOL? 

Why do I teach from day to day. 
Wearing my youth and life away? 
Toiling from morning's dawn till night, 
Wasting never a moment of light? 
To deck myself with jewels and lace? 
With dainties rare my board to grace? 

But poor reward such paltry things 
For all the labor teaching brings ; 
For all the frowns and 'plaining tones, 
'Neath which the teacher's spirit groans; 
For all the self-denying tasks 
Her daily duty ever asks. 

To break and sow the mental soil 
Is harder e'en than farmer's toil; 
But richer, too, the fruit it yields 
Than wealth of all the farmer's fields; 
The seeds of Truth the teacher sows 
Whence every noble action grows. 



524 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Nor can this work e'er come to naught, 
Tho' oft with disappointments fraught; 
If not by time on earth matured 
Their further growth is yet insured, 
The warmth of Heaven's eternal sun 
Perfecting what on earth's begun. 



(1880). 



" ULTRA ALPES EST ITALIA.»' » 

Beyond the Alps is Italy. 

Long ago, in annals hoary — 

Writ in Latin is the story — 

Hannibal from Carthage olden 

Longed for Eome with treasures golden, 

Moved by wrath since childhood cherished 

Planted then by sire now perished. 

Dreams were haunted by a vision, 
Brighter far than fields Elysian; 
Dreams of vengeance deep and direful, 
Ped his spirit ever ireful; 
Why not seek those wished-for valleys, 
With the force which round him rallies? 

Ever watchful is the Eoman, 
Ever ready for his f oeman, 
Should he come by southern border 
Which was truly Nature's order; 
Northward needs must Carthage enter, 
Would he reach the Roman center. 

Marches dreary, long, and trying. 
Bring the soldiers faint and dying. 
Where the crests of Alpine mountains 
Hide from view Rome's sparkling fountains, 
Change to frowns the landscape's smiling. 
Heights on heights in vastness piling. 



1 Motto of Literary Society at Excelsior Institute. 

\ 



TRANSLATIONS. 525 

" Ultra Alpes est Italia^''* 
Sounds the hero's bold reveille, 
Hope, awaked by tones entrancing, 
Echoes back from pulses dancing; 
Upward push the host invading, 
Nevermore their chief upbraiding. 

'Yond the Alps Italia lieth, 

Where the sunshine never dieth, — 

These the words which wrought like magic 

Eescued men from f alterings tragic ; 

These the words, with care unstinted, 

On our hearts we've all imprinted. 

Eicher e'en than Eoman coffers 
Is the treasure learning offers; 
Heights than Alpine still more trying 
in the learner's path are lying; 
Scale them, though, despite their frowning 
Eich reward each efEort crowning. 
[From the New England Journal of Education, Sept. 9, 1880 



IN MEMOEIAM. 

Elijah E. Lindsay. —Died November 4th, at the residence of 
Dr. V. T. Lindsay, in Springfield, Illinois, Elijah E. Lindsay, son 
of Nicholas and Martha A. Lindsay. 

Our brother Elijah was born December 10, 1854, 
near Napoleon, Gallatin County, Kentucky, and 
became a Christian at the age of seventeen. It was 
under the calm inspiration of duty he went forward to 
confess Christ before the congregation at Sugar Creek ; 
calmly he submitted to baptism in the waters of the 
Ohio ; all the rest of his brief life was in harmony 



526 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

with that confession and obedience. "Wherever he 
went he became known as a Christian, throwing off his 
natural timidity that he might speak a word for Jesus. 
His remarks were always simple, and his voice in 
prayer broken by embarrassment, but the rare purity 
of his life made every sentence impressive. 

He is the first of us eight children on whom Death 
has laid his hand, though the .youngest is almost 
grown. Mother says she had hoped we might all live 
to put her and father in their last resting-place, and 
well might she wish such tender hand as his to smooth 
her dying brow, or such loving heart to sympathize 
with her in suffering. His own character had been 
ripened by trial, for an illness of three years' duration 
hindered him in pursuit of his profession. It was only 
last March he received his degree from the Hospital 
College, Louisville, and a few weeks afterward he 
began practice in Curran, Illinois. 

That terrible malady, typhoid fever, attacked him 
far from his mother's home, but he came to Springfield 
where he was tenderly nursed by his two brothers and 
dear sister Kate. Mother went to him as soon as pos- 
sible, but arrived barely in time to see him die. He 
was buried November 5th, in Oak Ridge Cemetery, 
near the Lincoln Monument. 

In Springfield's city of the dead, 
At rest wltliin its narrow bed, 

Tlie dust of Lincoln lies ; 
A marble shaft the story tells 
What sacred relic 'neath it dwells — 

How all this relic prize. 



POEMS. 527 



Each day the green surrounding sod 
By lingering footsteps light is trod; 

Each day some offering rare 
Of immortelles or flowers that fade 
Above the hero's breast is laid, 

For all his memory share. 

Such are the honors paid the great, 
But while the gaping crowd await 

On Lincoln's tomb to gaze, 
I'll turn and seek a lowly mound 
By curious strangers rarely found 

And there bestow my praise. 

No costly shaft may 'bove it rise 
With dazzling spire to pierce the skiea, 

But angels know the spot ; 
They marked it well when off they bore 
His spirit to the other shore, 

And they'll forget it not. 

The hand of love may sometimes spread 
Sweet flowers o'er the quiet dead; 

But sweeter than their breath 
Is memory of that precious life 
Which ended here its weary strife 

With all-prevailing Death. 

No splendid deed has won him fame, 
On history's page to write his name. 

But Heaven knows her own; 
And in the Book of Life enrolled, 
In letters bright as burnished gold. 

That name is proudly shown. 



(1881). 



WHY IS IT? 

Pve wandered by the ocean strand, 
And picked its gleaming shells; 

I've listened to the tale of storms 
That each one wildly tells. 



•V 



528 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Like ship-wrecked hulls they idly lio 
And bleach upon the sands, 

Their former owners scattered wide 
By mystic, unseen hands, 

O wondrous, mighty power 
That framed each tiny bark, 

Why dost thou grant a moment's llfe» 
Then quench its feeble spark? 

This question, o'er and o'er again, 

I hear my heart repeat, 
As some unnoted, insect form 

Lies crushed beneath my feet. 

Ah I strange is life, and strange is death, 
And all our questioning vain ; 

But " Why is this? " and " Why is that? " 
Is every soul's refrain. 



(1881). 



m MEMORY OP T. J. SOUTH. 



Died, January 13th, at the family residence in Frankfort, Thomas 
J. South, son of Col. Jerry South, after an illness of eleven days. 

Our brother Tom was only thirty years of age, and 
noted for his apparent health and strength. So sudden 
was his illness, so unexpected his death, but few of his 
friends saw him in his last hours. His brothers and 
sisters were with him; and, hoping against hope, 
they tried with him to -ward off the fatal blow, but even 
amidst their efforts, it came. I did not see him till he 
was stretched upon the bier, and so life-like did he 
look, I could scarcely persuade myself that he was 
dead. Short as was his illness, he found time in it to 
confess his sins, and he died in the full assurance of 



POEMS. 529 

pardon. He had, some years ago, made the good 
confession, but he said his life had not been in keep- 
ing with this confession. He was one of those warm, 
generous natures, which has power to attract both 
young and old. 

And can it, can it be grim death hath stilled 
The throbbing heart which moved that noble form? 

Can I believe his icy breath hath chilled 
That pulse whose every beat was true and warm? 

The curling locks lie loose upon that brow, 
As if those fingers fair them back had tossed — 

He suffered, yet no trace of suffering now 
Betrays how much his latest struggle cost. 

The eyes are closed, but to my weeping sight 
The trembling lids seem opening as from sleep 1 

Oh! can it be that all their tender light 
Is faded — nevermore they'll smile or weep? 

Alas ! I thought those lips were parting then 
To greet me with that cheery, ringing voice. 

Whose echo through my soul now sounds again, 
In accents making all my heart rejoice. 

Those hands — upon that breast how still they lie, 

And will they nevermore my babes caress? 
To those extended arms they'd instant fly, 

And round that neck their tiny arms would press. 

When first my eyes beheld that form erect, 

I wondered at its manly grace and power; 
No trace of weakness could my gaze detect — 

How could I then foresee this trying hour? 

He moves not — does not speak, or even smile. 

Yes ; death hath claimed our brother as his own — 
No, no; not Death, but Life eternal, while 

Poor we are left 'neath burdens yet to groan. 

25 (1881). 



530 . FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 



" THE LOED LOVETH A CHEERFUL GIVER." 

SONG. 

Come, give of your money, my brother and friend; 

The gospel to far-away heathens 'twill send, 

And light to their darkness, the message will lend. 

CHORUS. 

Oh! brother, a gift for the Lord do we ask, 
And surely to give were no burdensome task; 
Eor Jesus has bid us the giver to tell. 
Who giveth, but freely the Lord loveth well. 

What! frowning, my brother, and turning away? 
Why hear you, so coldly, my brother, I pray! 
Forever there's some one wants money you say! 

Come give of your money, the hungry to feed. 

They cry for your help 'mid their suffering and need; 

In piteous tones from each highway they plead. 

Your money you say by hard labor you earn, 

And hence from your door the poor beggar you turn — 

For lending tlie Lord thus your cliancesyou spurn. 

Come lay up, my brother, your treasure above, 
And draw in return the Lord's measureless love; 
Your spirit 'twill gladden with joys from above. 

(1882). 



LET THE OLD SEED DIB THAT NEW FRUIT MAY COME. 

Hear now the words of Paul: 
Unless a corn of wheat 
Into the ground shall fall, 
And, lying there, the earth 
And damp consume it all. 
No fruit shall from it come 
To glad our " Harvest-home." 



POEMS. 531 



How close and dark the cells 
Imprisoniog long the wealth 
Of golden grain, that dwells 
Engarnered fast within 
Those hard, unyielding shells; 
But, softening 'neath the mold, 
Their treasures then behold. 

The writer speaks of death — 
Of ending in the grave 
Our cherished mortal breath. 
Like seeds concealing germs, 
Our spirit's hull, he saith, 
Must moulder in the earth 
To give its fruitage birth. 

But e'en this side of the tomb 
Are graves of our desires, 
Enshrouded oft in gloom; 
There, patient, let them lie, 
Till, bursting into bloom. 
By fruit of hopes suppressed 
The waiting trust is blessed. 

Tired teacher, dost thou long 
To reap immortal souls 
And bear full sheaves along, 
To win thee welcome glad 
From Heaven's angelic throng? 
Then bury self each day, 
And for the harvest pray. 



THE GOOD OLD TIMES. 

When I read of Plato, 
Who, in ages long agone, 
Mid the groves of Athens, 
In the hours of learning's davm, 



(1881). 



532 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Freely gave from soul o'erflowing 
Thoughts with truth and beauty glowing, 
Oft I wonder if his patience 
Found such trials in his work, 
As, in every school-room corner, 
Nowadays is known to lurk. 

Did the boys such mischief 

In those elder days devise? 

Ushering in each moment 

With some harrowing surprise? 

Had they then such elbows, itchingr 

Till some neighbor's ribs were twitching 

'Neath a blow so unexpected, 

Makes him gasp aloud for breath? 

And return with speed impulsive 

Stroke administered in stealth? 

Could they then with shuffling 

Make such hideous, deafening noise, 

Till the voice of Plato 

Loudly cried, "Be quiet, b,oys! " 

Could they, then, from bits of paper, 

Means invest for many a caper? 

Such as windmills whirling madly 

Till his brain was all awhir! ; 

Or, yet, wads, those ready missiles. 

School boys now are wont to hurl? 

Paper? — I'm forgetting — 

Why, 'twas then a thing unknown ! 

Parchment and papyrus, 

Great philosophers alone 

Could afford such means expensive 

To express their thouglit intensive — 

Not a bit for wads or windmills ; 

Not a bit for writing notes; 

Not a scrap the floor to litter ; 

Not a slip for writing votes. 



POEMS. 633 



Clad their feet with sandals, 
Not a boot with thundering sound, 
Not a pin, for raising 
Neighbor schoolmate with a bound; 
Not a knife the seat defacing ; 
Not a pencil names entracing — 
Oh! I envy Plato, truly, 
Freedom from such trials sore — 
Why, I cease me now to wonder 
That he lived beyond four score. 



(1882,). 



THE OPEMING YEAR. 

AFTER PRENTICE. 

*Tis morning's bustling hour, and progress now 

Is calling all the drowsy world to forth 

Erom midnight's useless dreams. Harii! from the tower 

The bell's glad tones are peeling, " Come let's crown 

Our New Year King." " Within a chamber deep 

And still " the heart has shut the Old Year's corse; 

In shrouded state he lies, and, now and then, 

In twilight's hour, will Mem'ry gently ope 

The door, and, bending o'er the cold remains 

Regretful drops each welling tear ; but, now. 

Dead hope revived bids sorrow's plaints be still; 

With loyal hearts we'll shout " Long live the king! " 

The seasons, bearing each her gift of love. 

Now haste to greet their sovereign Lord. 'Tis grim 

Old Winter's hand outspreads the ermine robe 

Of state; sweet Spring will strew his path with flowers; 

Bright Summer grants him all her golden wealth; 

And Autumn paints with myriad glowing tints 

His landscape o'er. 

It is a time to change 
Resolve to noble action. Why obstruct 
Life's pathway by debris of broken vows. 
Till by their shapeless, hindering mass they check 



53J: FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Each impulse onward? Only by the act 

We crystalize each worthy vow into 

A stepping stone toward heaven. As tolls the Old 

Year's dying knell up starts the warning ghost 

Of unkept Eesolution, and this " spectre grim " 

Goes stalking through the chambers of the soul 

Expelling thence self-satisfaction, till, 

Too oft, the New Year's sounding call will dull 

The ear of conscience. Let us down this ghost 

Once and forever ! 

Welcome, glad New Year, 
With all thy " throng of happy dreams." To ear 
Of Suffering thou dost whisper cease of pain; 
To rosy Health, unending pleasure ; dark, 
All questioning Doubt has confirmation sure 
Eor promise ; Faith thou bid'stlook heavenward 
Till sight reward her trusting; laurels green 
Thou'lt bind on proud Ambition's brow, and yet 
Bestow desired gifts on meek Humility. 
A seer thou art who tellest only good; 
And wisely, too, for could the human soul 
Foretaste the anguish life may bring, it would, 
Like ship o'er burdened, sink before the storm. 
Alas! full many brightest flowers of earth 
The Old Year's chilling blast hath blighted; oft. 
Too, brought he disappointments in his course; 
But thou, O joyous New Year time, dost speak 
To every heart of resurrection's hope. 
And of that blessed state, where nevermore 
There cometh sad'ning change. 



,,1882). 



WHAT A DAY MAY BRING. 

The following lines were suggested by the unex- 
pected death of Nannie Bealert, of Lexington, on 
December 25th, of the year just closed: — 

Beside the cheerful evening fire, in mood 
Accordant, sat we older folks, while round 



POEMS. 535 

The room in sportive glee, the children played; 

When sudden came a rap on outer door 

"Which made us each one start, or listening stand. 
The unaccustomed hour made ominous 
The sound, and half prepared I heard the words : 
"A message — Nannie's dead! " *' Oh! no; " I thought. 
'Tis some mistake — 'whj, Nannie's but a child — 
Scarce yet sixteen, and full of life as is 
My playful boy. What claim has Death on such 
As she? 'Tis Grandma," then I thought, "and how 
We'll miss her counsel wise, her gentle tones; 
But gladly in the grave she'll rest the frame 
Which now her spirit clogs. But Nannie dead I 
An only child, her father's sweetest joy. 
Who seemed but sent to glad his latest hour. 
And shall this joy to deepest anguish turn? 
For this has life to him been lengthened out 
Beyond the common span? Let's see; again 
The message let me read. 'Tis trae — 'tis true I 
* Our Nannie died the tweaty-flfth.' What's that?" 
Why, that was merriest day of all the year! 
Could Nannie die amid the shouts of mirth 
Which made the air resound? Her heart was wont 
To echo back, that day, each note of joy. 
And with its happy throbs to light her cheeks 
Till each beholder every care forgot 
In presence of a soul so free. 

And yet, 
'Tis writ, " she's dead," and I must go to " weep 
With those that weep " 
■!> 4> * . * m *« 

Beside the fire again 
I sit and muse but what a change ! I sat 
With pleasing thoughts, on yesternight, of day 
In social pleasure passed. To-night, the sounds 
Of mourning, scent of flowers, slow movement of 
A hearse, the sickening air from opened vault, 
My senses haunt. The world, tho' yet so full 



586 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Of teeming millions left seems lone. O Death, 
Unnumbered joys in Nannie's form you've borne 
Away, and made us doubt oux lease on what remain. 

(1882). 



A VISION OF THE NIGHT. 

'Twas far beyond the midnight hour, 
When baby's fretful cry my slumber broke, 
And, answering, I arose her wants to tend 
With feeling half reluctant, as our wont 
Is oft when patient love each labor cheer 
Should lend, the dim-lit room I groped around. 

The crying hushed, repose I once again 

Might seek; but, lifting, as by chance, a blind 

Which hid from view the outer night, there fell 

Upon my drowsy lids a vision full 

Of splendor glorious. Each star from out 

A field of rosy purple shone, most like 

The light which Guido lends the clouds 

That round Aurora float. This window glimpse 

To further contemplation called, and, hence, 

An eastern door I opened wide, and lo! 

Before my wandering eyes, the source of all 

That radiance glowed. A comet, poised 

On high, fit rival of the sun, whose place 

He held, up toward the zenith threw his train 

Widespread, as if the moon's pale rays to hide. 

Far back to childhood days my thoughts were borne, 
And, once agaiu, beneath the distant sky. 
With hand in kind " old aunty's " dusky palm 
Enclasped, I turned my 'stonished gaze to where. 
Above, the " blazin' star " appeared, which soon. 
In awe-struck tones she said, the world would fire, 
And turn to nothing e'en the solid earth. 
" Twah time," she thought, "dat wicked souls should pray; 



POEMS. 537 

For sho' dis wah de light de Lawd to guide 
rrom Heben down." Alone, in presence of 
The night, there came again this sense of awe, 
And nearer seemed the Lord than ever since 
Those childhood days. 

'Twas yet an hour before 
The house would stir, but busy thought all sleep 
Expelled, and silent meditation from 
My recent vision many a lesson wrought. 
How oft, I thought, some intervening blind. 
Some fastened door, confines in narrow bounds 
The soul, when, but for that, to worlds unknown 
Its ken might reach. Of ignorance rough, unhewn, 
Is made, ofttimes, this door and then the mind 
Imprisoned never knows how faint the light 
Within, nor dreams of greater light beyond. 
Again 'tis narrow learning shuts and bars 
Within one 'lumined corner all the soul ; 
And, tho' more polished than the first, with strong 
Contempt for broader knowledge as the bolt, 
No less the soul from loftier fiight it holds. 

Of panels various is this door sometimes 
Enwrought ; a selfish sorrow, doubting faith. 
Ingratitude for blessings past, or yet 
Some cherished hate. O soul, lift up the blind, 
Fling wide the door, whate'er its cumbering form. 
And find revealed new worlds of light 1 

fl882) 



A CONFESSION. 

There are moments in life when the bitterest tears. 
Not a whit can the anguish which brings them assuage ; 

There are moments so filled with their freightage of fears, 
They o'erwhelm the young spirit in premature age. 



538 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

There are moments when burdens which bravely we've borne, 
With a weight past endurance, the worn shoulders press; 

Till a cry from the lips uncomplaining is torn, 
Tho' the crying alleviate not the distress. 

Tho' 'tis true that with blessings my life has been crowned, 
Yet to me, now and then, come these moments of care; 

And the thought that in weeping the grief is not drowned, 
Does not teach me how better the pain I can bear. 

'Tis when ties of the past are felt snapping in twain — 
Ah! those ties that we've cherished and dreamed were secure. 

When they're severed at last spite our strugglings in vain. 
Then we feel there's no blessing of earth can endure. 

With the gall of this thought every hope is alloyed — 
If old friendships miist die, why rejoice in the new? 

Like the old, to our pain, must they soon be destroyed: 
To my heart then I say, "Bid earth's friendships adieu." 

But the voice of the Lord bids my spirit be filled 
With the love and the joy, and the peace which are His; 

But my spirit responds: "Oh! how can I be stilled. 
When nothing that's joyous remains as it is?" 

Your affection, my child, place on things that above 

In the sunlight of God through eternity thrive 1 
At the words glows my heart with a holier love. 
And my tears are effaced by the hopes that revive. 

I had made with my hands, out of earth's brittle clay, 

A poor idol, which broken before me now lies. 
And the fragments, tho' dumb, to me warningly say. 

Be your building in future more certain, more wise." 

C1882). 



LIVING OR DEAD? 

Dead! Longfellow's dead! The bells 
Of Cambridge toll! 
Three-score, ten and five they tell, 



POEMS. 539 

Einging out his dying knell; 
Eesponds my soul, 
Throbbing back each tone that swells. 

Dead! Longfellow's dead! The news 
Like lightning sped! 
Weeping, all the nation heard, 
Echoed back the mournful word, 
"Our Poet's dead! 
Lost to earth his sacred muse! " 

Dead? Longfellow dead? Not so — 
Can dead men speak? 
Mute, unanswering are the dead, 
Voiceless to the tears we shed; 
In vain we seek 
Words of solace for our woe. 

Dead? Longfellow dead? Oh! no; 
His voice I hear — 
List! the "Psalm of Life " he sings; 
Joy, my soul, its cadence brings — 
Away each tear ! 
Living he for whom 'twould flow 

Dead? Longfellow dead? Then whence 
That word of cheer? 
Wearied with life's ceaseless war, 
Courage gone, "Excelsior" 
Fell on my ear, 
Quick'ning every torpid sense. 



Gone! Longfellow's gone! 'Tis true 

His life hath flown. 

Love will miss that aged form. 

With his spirit late so warm — 

In realms unknown 

Hides that spirit from our view 



540 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Dead! Longfellow's dead! But still, 

E'en while I weep, 
" Eesignation " fills my soul, 
Every pain its words console. 
The dead but sleep ! 
God can wake thera at his will. 



(1882), 



THE FATAL DANCE. 



'Twas Herod's birthday, and, as if this day 

Had been a blessing to the world, he bade 

With joyous feast its fresh return be marked. 

Ahl fitter had it been in sackcloth , dust. 

And penitential tears the hours to pass ; 

But God, in mercy, lets his judgment wait 

That man may turn from evil deeds, and oft 

This mercy makes the heart more hard. ' Twas thus 

With Herod, potentate of Galilee. 

No consciousness of sin his spirits racked ; 

'Mid smiles of well-pleased guests and fumes of wine. 

Forgotten were the words of John that once 

His conscience stirred. The toast and reveler's song, 

With tale unhallowed, made the moments flee, 

Till in their drunken frenzy each had soon 

This Herod too a god proclaimed. But now, 

Herodias, full of wiles, Salome sends 

To grace the feast. All eyes are hers, and on 

The wanton dance their passions gloat. Oh! sham^ ! 

No maid or wife of pagan Eome, who loved 

Her own good name, was ever known to risk 

Its contact with the dance. No; in that day. 

To be a dancer was to be a thing 

No man esteemed, save as the needed tool 

To gratify his vilest lust; and, here, 

A daughter of the chosen race had made . 

Herself as one of these. O woman, born 



i 



POEMS. 541 

To lift man far above his baser self, 

How oft, with thoughtless hand, you bind more fast 

The chains which hold him downl 

But then 'twas fit 
Herodias thus should train her child. Could she, 
Adultress that she was, endure rebuke 
From eyes of wronged innocence? No, no; 
The daughter, like herself, must be corrupt, 
Devoid of modest shame. Elate the girl 
Received her mother's charge ; without a blush. 
Endured lewd Herod's gaze; with joy approved 
The reckless vow, "Now ask me, my maiden, what 
Thou wilt, and I will give it thee ; tho' half 
My crown." What should she ask? The crown, and be 
A queen? Ambition answe'red "yes " — but stop ! 
What will her mother say? How sweet to see 
The child in meekness, yield to parent's will ; 
But ah! how sad, if into depths of sin 
That parent lead. There is a Higher Will 
Which prime obedience claims ; to know this wilJ 
A duty none can guiltless leave undone. 
With moody brow, apart Herodias sat 
Revolving darkest schemes. In prison yet 
Survived the holy man who once had dared 
Reproach her for her sin. She'd importuned 
With Herod for his life ; but Herod felt 
In awe of righteousness, and still refused. 
By night or day, no thought but vengeance filled 
Her guilty soul. Salome found her thus. 
But when her tale was heard, a fiendish joy 
Replaced the former discontent. Revenge 
Could now be hers. E'en kingdoms vast were naught. 
Compared with this. " Go tell him now," she cried, 
"To send me here the head of him I hate! " 
Why tell the rest — how Herod, thinking not 
' Twere greater shame to keep than to break his oath, 
Reluctant gave the boon, and from that day 
Had never peace of mind? To me, the dance 



542 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Is ever fraught with raem'ry of this deed, 
And such association strips it hare 
Of each deluding charm. 



1883). 



WHO DID THIS DEED? 

The following lines were suggested by the recent 
tragic death of young Louis Crutcher, at New Castle, 
Ky. His death was caused by the effects of ten grains 
of morphine administered by his own hand, whilf 
under the influence of recent dissipation: — 

The hour was growing late, and yet there sat 
One watcher lone, upon whose brow the lines 
Of anxious thought grew marked, as, one by one, 
She measured out each moment's laggard pace. 
As, now and then, there came a step upon 
The outer pave, with look of mingled fear 
And hope she'd bend an eager, listening ear. 
Until beyond her door the sound would pass 
And leave her only watching, waiting yet. 
" Some mother," say you, " for her wayward son 
This vigil keeps? " Not so; no son to bless 
Or blight this woman's life the Lord had sent; 
But to her trust an orphaned boy there fell, 
Whose mother, years before, the grave had hid. 
With soul of tender yearning f uU, she strove 
With prayer and words of love the vacant place 
To fill, and many a night ere this she'd sat 
And listened for his home returning step. 

What's that! A heavy, reeling tread ! Alas! 

To weU she's learned the sound. The door was left 

Ajar, that by the lamp light's cheerful glow 

The wanderer should be welcomed in. With haste 

The foster-mother came to greet her charge ; 



POEMS. 543 

With quivering lip a tender kiss she gave ; 
And, as she stood beside the stalwart youth, 
A passer-by had thought, " What manly strengthi 
How fit for weaker woman's shield and stay I " 
But to the scrutinizing gaze his face 
Revealed au inner presence, in whose grasp 
The strongest frame were helpless as a babe's. 
He quailed beneath the penetrating glance 
And, with a look of desperation, sought 
His room, 

A quiet settled down o'er all 
The house ; the weary watcher in a deep', 
Oblivious slumber lost the sense of care ; 
When from that room a piercing shriek burst forth. 
Adown the stairway, thro' the lower hall, 
The maddening cry resounded yet again : 
"Come quick! Bring help! The poison! My head My head I 
Will no one come? " The startled household rush 
In answer to the cry, and strive to calm 
His raving words — but no; he speaks too true. 
In frenzied moment he had thought to throw 
Away his worthless life an easy task ; 
But, now, he'd hazard worlds, were they but his 
To have the deed recalled. 

The doctor came ; 
Companions of his revels gathered round 
With faces pale, but hands for help prepared; 
No means were left untried, no skill unused; 
But vain, for Death, relentless, kept fast hold 
Upon the victim who had dared to bid 
Him come. 

The morrow's papers told the tale 
In coldly stated facts with but these words 
Adjoined: " These statements show that we were right 
When once before we said, this youth 
Had tried to take his life." But I would ask, 
" Who did this deed? Is there no stain of guilt 



544 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Save on the hand that quiet lies above 
His pulseless heart? Was innate love of vice 
From Father handed down?" Ah! no; the love 
Of God that Father knew and taught his child. 
Was he an outcast by that Father's death? 
No, no; by counsel wise his way was led; 
But men there were who loved the orphan's gold, 
And cared not how they made it theirs. In name 
Of lawful trade they lured this boy aside ; 
Then sent him back to weeping friends with naught 
But rifled pockets and a conscience seared. 
With bitter tears he'd promise nevermore 
Those haunts to seek; but could he 'scape their wiles? 
On every hand the smiling tempter stood, 
And held aloft the sparkling ruby wine. 
"One glass," a chum would say, " they'll never know," 
And so his pledge was broke, and self-respect 
Impaired. 

The months went by, and day by day, 
His fortune went, till oft there lacked the means 
To quench his burning thirst. Again, I ask, 
"Who took this life? Who all his manhood stole? 
Who crazed his brain? " answer, if ye dare, 
Ye men who make or seU the stufE that ruins 
Our youth. O ye who make our laws, will ye 
Not find the guilty man, and bind his hands 
From further taking precious life? 
Excelsior Institute, (1883). 



MY MISSION. 

Four times within the last quick-flown decade, 

Upon my longing ear the wailing sound 

Hath f eU, which ushers into wakening light 

Another claimant for this earth-life's smiles ;. 

Or frowns. Four times within my waiting arms, '^ 



POEMS. 545 

With mother-love's impulsive force, I've clasped 

A tiny form, the while my heart made room 

This new-come nestling in its warmth to fold. 

Each tiny, stranger face, with questioning thought 

I've scanned, to find if aught familiar there 

Amid its newness lurked. The first. 

Upon me turned a pair of eyes, which back 

A glorious memory called. O'er ocean's waves, 

'Long Elbe's winding course, through Dresden's streets 

That memory bore, and left me 'fore a shrine 

To Raphael's genius reared. I saw again 

The Virgin's maiden face, the Holy Babe, 

The kneeling saint on either side, and, last, 

The cherub poised below. His wondrous eyes, 

Whose depths seem wisdom-filled, met mine with look 

Which read me thro' and thro' — my secret past, 

My present hopes, my future's mystic roll; 

Yet told me naught of all he knew. E'en such 

My first-born's eyes, thro' which her spirit, fresh 

From other climes, gleamed forth yet naught revealed 

Of all its hidden lore. 

The second pair 
Less dreamy were, but in their glance was that 
Which filled my own with tears. A pair of eyes 
Now filmed with age, with labor's sweat grown dim 
Were once, like these, of clear, unsullied blue — 
The eyes that filled my mother's maiden dreams, 
And watched with tender care my childhood's days. 
Ah! Father, then I wept to think how long 
In misty light you've groped; and that the tasks 
Of coming life my boy's bright orbs must dim. 
But why relate at length such thoughts as these. 
The like of which each mother knows. We note 
Each faint resemblance in the outer form 
To objects long endeared; but what is this 
To traits of inner likeness, which the life 
To good or ill may tend? As, one by one, 
Each nursling 'scapes my arms to walk alone. 
To exercise an independent will, 



546 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

I watch to see what fault of mine its soul 
Has stamped, and think how best to check its growth. 
When with her task forgotten quite, I find 
My eldest born in reverie lost, I know 
Her mind must be awaked to outer things 
And made to feel that beauteous dreams are worth 
Far less than homely labor well performed; 
And when, with force combative, right and left 
Our monstrous boy each hindrance knocks, I think 
How may I turn this stubborn will to fight 
The hosts of sins which wait his onward path? 
But fix within his mind some lofty aim, 
And sure its heights he'll reach whate'er oppose. 
And, now comes next our household pet, who wins, 
As well, the love of every transient guest 
To pay it back from out the wealth untold 
Which fills her tender heart. A slight reproof 
Will flood her dark brown eyes with glistening drops, 
And change to sobs her laugh of wonted glee. 
Will not a nature so attuned, with love 
Responsive meet the love divine? Ah! yes; 
If I myseK but keep this love in view. 
And let her see its influence rules my life. 
But one remains, the one who holds within 
Her mother's heart the suggest nook; and yet, 
Her life is briefly writ. She takes her food. 
Sleeps, wakes, smiles, frets, or coos, like other babes, 
While each peculiar mark of mental power 
Is but a fiction of her mother's brain 
Not worth the telling here. But I've forgot 
"My Mission " was my theme. 'Tis ever so: 
These babies fill my life so full of work 
I've not a moment left to talk of " Spheres " 
And kindred things. " 'Tis pity," say you, " that" 
I'm hampered thus? How know you that? The Lord 
Assigns us mother's souls to tend for him _ 

And sure he best our fitting number knows. M 

(1884). • 



POEMS. 547 



JUMBO. 



There is a man of great renown 

Who in October came to town ; 

And with him brought a wondrous show, 

To which the folks made haste to go. 

For weeks and weeks before he came, 
He had the country all aflame 
With handbills scattered far and wide, 
Till every school-boy was supplied. 

For full a week or more ahead 
Of little else could aught be said : 
Amid the songs and prayers devout 
There oft would poke old Jumbo's snout. 

The wooden horse of olden time, 
Of which we read in Virgil's rhyme, 
And which an army bore within, 
To Jumbo was a very pin. 

The looked-for morning dawned at last, 
And soon the wheels were rolling past — 
The wheels of buggies, phaetons light. 
The wheels of wagons — what a sight I 

And in these wagons, buggies, carts. 
Were folk from all adjacent parts; 
The tender children, gray-haired sires, . 
The pious saints and noted liars. 

It Is the wont to cry " Hard times ! " 
When preachers ask for paltry dimes ; 
But when Lord Barnum called for cash, 
The halves rolled out like so much trash. 

The man whose children's feet were bare, 
Of circus tickets bought his share ; 
Tho' all unshod, poor Bill, and Joe, 
And Tom, and Sail should see the show. 



548 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

And so that day, it came to pass, 
The streets of Frankfort were a mass 
Of young and old, of black and white, 
Of rich and poor — a perfect sight I 

If every church within the place 

Had utilized its utmost space, 

They scarce had held this mighty throng, 

Which toward the show-grouud pressed along. 

Next Sunday came, and empty pews 
In every church the preacher views ; 
And, as the plates were passed around, 
They, here and there, a nickel found. 

Now, why, I ask, this mighty change? 
Pray is it not a little strange 
That hundreds who could reach the show. 
When church time comes can never go? 



(1884). 



THE TRIUMPH OF CHASTITY. 

Eight years have passed, and like a dream 

Almost forgot, these memories seem — 

Those memories of that happy time. 

When in Italia's balmy clime. 

The hours unnoted took their flight. 

And scarce 'twas morn when came the night. 

In Florence, 'mid surrounding hills, I 

Rare beauty all the being thrills ; 

From Brunelleschi's towering dome, 

Down to the tiny church-yard home ; 

Where Mrs. Browning peaceful sleeps, J 

'Tis Beauty still her empire keeps. 1 

'Mid Santa Croce's stately tombs ; | 

Without, where Dante's statue looms, ,^- 

Where Giotto's tower the eye invites, ) 



POEMS. 549 



Or yet, San Miniato's heights — 
Whatever meets the vision keen, 
'Tis Beauty still is reigning queen. 

Within the lofty palace halls 
Where Raphael's glories grace the walls, 
Where files of statues, left and right, 
With forms unnumbered greet the sight — 
With forms devised in bronze or stone — 
There Beauty still uprears her throne. 

But not alone by artists dead 
Is all this rich effulgence shed, 
Tor, here and there, some living hand 
With brain creative in command. 
Yet chisels out some new design 
For regal Beauty's fitting shrine. 

In villas with suburban grounds 
Where violets' perfume sweet abounds, 
Where new delight is hourly quaffed. 
Some artists ply their master-craft. 
Their homes a choice abiding place 
For queenly Beauty's royal grace. 

But 'mid the dust of city streets. 
Where din of life the senses greets, 
Two tiny rooms one artist held, 
Whose work must rival those of eld, 
For never subject more devout 
At Beauty's court stood waiting out. 

For years, o'er one design he'd wrought 
Till now, to rare perfection brought, 
In plaster cast the forms appeared 
Which oft his brain in fancy reared 
As tribute to the sovereign stores 
Of her each artist soul adores. 

The dingy walls with cobwebs hung. 
The dust to shelf and covers clung; 
The casts of Webster and of Clay 



550 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Upon the floor neglected lay; 

And yet a halo over all 

Each comer held in Beauty's thrall. 

This halo from the poised head 
Of Virtue's figure round was spread, 
Her fingers fair held fast the dart 
By Cupid aimed to fire her heart ; 
But Virtue deftly 'scaped the blow, 
And shaftless now is Cupid's bow. 

This Beauty's tribute, did I say? 
Ah I better yet — 'tis Virtue's sway 
This marble story loud proclaims 
Our artist wrought with loftier aims 
When forth this inspiration grew 
Than heathen sculptor ever knew. 

The hand is still whose patient stroke 
Such beanties into being woke ; 
But " Virtue's Triumph" sounds the call 
Above the folded funeral pall, 
'♦ Let those who love refining art 
Extol the name of Joel Hart." 

(1884.) 



SACKED POEMS. 551 

SACRED POEMS. 

A DAY WITH JESUS. 

KKAD AT S. 8. CONVENTION, NASHVILLE, KY. 

Since early morn, the Master's weary feet 

With careless tread had borne him to and fro, 

Wherever suffering's divers call had bid 

Him come. At dawn, among the Gadarenes 

He'd loosed from mad'ning bondage him 

Whom demons legion-numbered held in sway. 

Then, driven from those coasts by men who far 

Preferred the cursed gains of lawless trade 

To health-restoring presence of the Lord, 

He launched once more upon the sea. That sea, 

Eemembering yet the voice its surging waves 

Had recent stilled, opposed no hindrance to 

The gliding oar. Plain-spoken James, at first, 

With even stroke, the tiny bark propelled. 

Then Peter, grown impatient, seized the oar. 

Eesponsive to his touch, the prow into 

A speed impetuous leaped — with aim, tho' less 

Direct. Next John, with gentle, loving grasp. 

To measures rhythmic tuned their onward course. 

The while in unrecorded converse slipped 

The moments by, till, unawares, there stole 

Upon the view Capernia's gloomy walls. 

Prom out these one-hued walls of dark basalt 

One solitary, lofty-towering front 

In dazzling whiteness gleamed. The synagogue. 

Was this, by that centurion built of whom 

The Jews had said, "A worthy man is he 

Who loves our race." The boatman could afar 

This front descry, and thus through tossing wave 

His passage guide. Pit emblem 'twas of him 

Whose hand the pile upreared. His virtue thus, 



552 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Amid an age ■with vice all blackeuccl o'er, 
In glowing light appears, anu well may guide 
The seeker for an ever-during name. 
Debarking where this white fa9ade the beach 
O'erlooked, straightway, to Levi's house, hard by, 
The Master led. A banquet rare the host. 
With liberal hand, soon spread, and, fellow guest 
With Publicans and sinners, Jesus at 
This sumptuous feast reclined. No jest obscene. 
No reveler's song, the lips unhallowed now 
Outpour, for, each, intent and speechless, hung 
Upon His gracious words. Thus ranting sin 
Is silenced, when calm Purity her face 
Presents. Not so with sneaking Envy, which 
So often lurks unnoted 'neath the garb 
From satisfied self-righteousness enwrought. 
Thus hid, with eager, searching eye, it scans 
The object of its hate, and sees a fault 
Where Love would find perfection. Envy's eye 
Was here, and Envy's sneering tone was heard. 
" Why eats your Master thus with Publicans 
And sinners, men defiled?" So spake, aside. 
The Pharisees; but Jesns knows the thought 
This moment in the heart conceives. " I came," 
He said, "to sinners call — the righteous need 
Me not." Eebuked, the Pharisees awhile 
Withdrew, and John's disciples took their turn. 
" Why do ye never fast?" they ask, " when we 
East oft, as do the Pharisees? " Vain men! 
To merit claim for forms observed, when dwells 
Within the heart foul Envy, with her touch 
Polluting every thought and act! How dare 
They place such erring lives in contrast with 
The One of whom 'twas said, "He doeth all 
Things well! " And fasting had He not, in prayer, 
Full forty days His fleshly needs forgot? 
And daily since, in giving spirit food 
To famished men. His appetites suppressed? 
No self-defense He pleads. But little does 



SACRED POEMa. 553 

He care for mere injustice to Himself. 

Men can not fast, in trutti, except some deep 

Emotion lift the soul too high for reach 

Of carnal things. E'en such the lesson borne 

By His reply which sent each questioner forth 

The words to ponder. 

For an instant, held 
By wonder, on the very threshhold, those 
Departing paused. An august ruler of 
The synagogue to hated Matthew's house 
Demanding entrance ! Yes, 'tis true ; he seeks. 
With desperate haste, the doorway. Reverent each 
Then stands aside to let him pass. The f easter now 
Perceive his outline, and amazement stills 
The cup but half way to the eager lip. 
And from the hand lets fall the morsel yet 
Untasted. At a glance they know him; for, 
In former times, on holy Sabbath days. 
These Publicans the synagogue had oft 
Frequented. Later, when for Roman gold 
They bartered faith, encountering on the street 
His stately form, they'd quickly turn away 
To thus avoid his look of stern reproof 
Which rendered more intense the horrid pangs 
Of guilty conscience. Now and then, in hours 
Of silent night, his image came to haunt 
Each torturing dream. They'd see him, as of old, 
His mantle draped in folds majestic o'er 
His form, his flowing, snow-white beard, his mien 
Which awed each listener as, with tone unmoved. 
He read the curses of the Law on such 
As they. That mantle, now, was all awry 
And half concealed the look of anguish on 
His face. Uncombed, devoid of ointment, fell 
The cherished beard, all stooped his form beneath 
A burden weightier than his three-score years. 
In broken words, at Jesus' feet, he laid 
This burden down. " O Master, even now 
My daughter lieth dead, but come and place 



554 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

Thy hand upon her, that she once again 

May live." Forthwith, in haste, the Master rose, 

And followed where the father led with step 

Impatient. 

Multitudes of people pressed 
Around; but one frail, trembling woman, moved 
By desperation, pushed her way amid 
The throng. "But let me touch his garment's hem? " 
She thought, "One touch will make me whole." Ah! yes; 
But can she ever reach His side? They make 
No room to let her pass — such rags command 
No reverence. Once, in robes embroidered by 
Her fingers deft, she'd walked, with grace; these streets, 
And then, at her approach, the gaping crowd 
Would part, exchanging words of whispered praise, 
Which, heard, had kindled into deeper glow 
The health-bloom on her radiant face. But fell 
Disease had stolen from the cheek its hue, 
From limb and bust their rounded contour sapped ; 
To slow paced languor changed the bounding step; 
With dread of self-filled hopeful eye. No more • 
With skill the veil or robe her fingers wrought. 
No more with thought of vain adorning kept 
Her brain itself employed. Iler time, her gold, 
Her jewels rare, the broidered robes themselves, — 
She gave them all to men who claimed to know 
Her body's needs, — and yet was nothing bettered. 
A beggar, clad in rags, with greedy look. 
She watched the passer-by ; for every coin 
Let fall the hoard increased which access gained 
To yet another quack renowned. 'Twas thus 
She sat and watched; and longed, when some one said, 
" The great Physician, comes, whose very touch 
Gives health, and free of charge, to humblest wretch. 
And see! She's reached Him now! No, no! not yet — 
Another comes between — her strength may fail 
Her yet too soon ! Once more she tries — and, joy! 
The change has come ! 'Tis health restored uplifts 
The tottering frame. " Who touched me? " To fear 



i 



SACRED POEMS. 555 

The tone transformed her joy, and glad she heard 
The answer come, "The crowd is pressing all 
Around." She thought to hide herself and thus 
Escape, but Jesus calls her back, and there. 
Before that host, she tells it all, then waits 
With dread to hear a stern response. " In peace 
Depart — thy faith, my daughter, makes thee whole." 
These words assuring from her soul expelled 
Each trembling fear, and left them only peace 
And love, and joy, and gratitude, which fain 
Would tell themselves in her Eedeemer's praise ; 
But sounds of mourning from the ruler's house, 
Now met the ear, and forth a servant came, 
Whose bowed head and step reluctant told 
Before the tidings which his words confirmed. 
"Why trouble you the Master now? Lo! dead 
Thy daughter lies." Dead! dead! The father turned 
His mutely pleading, helpless look upon 
The Master's pitying face. "Believe, and yet 
Again thou'lt see her live," the answer came. 
Encouraged thus, Jairus hastened on ; 
And as the house they neared, still wilder grew 
The mourners' wail : "Alas! alas! for her! 
Alas ! that she should die so young, so fair I 
The father's only child. Alas! for him!" 
As at His bidding fell, on Galilee, 
The roaring waves, so now the Master calms 
This storm of grief . " This mourning cease ; the maid 
But sleeps awhile." The hired minstrels laughed 
In scorn His words to hear ; but faith controlled 
The father's will, and soon, with Peter, James 
And John, the parents stood beside their dead. 
With throbbing hearts they breathless watch for signs 
Of life, while He, whose word is life, in His 
The clammy fingers took, and at His call 
The spirit came again, to fill with warmth 
The stiffened pulseless frame. 

Amid the joy 
And greetings, Jesus thought to steal away 



550 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

And rest from all the press of people and 

Of people's cares ; but scarce outside the door 

Two blind men mercy sought, and, for their faith, 

He gave them sight. Then, as the day began, 

So came its close, in driving out from one 

Possessed a demon foul; at which again 

The Pharisees blasphemed. 

So, now, a day 
With Jesus we have spent — a day so full 
Of work it makes one weary e'en to think 
It o'er — of work so full of love to man, 
It dwindles into naught our boasted zeal. 
Ye followers of Christ, if weary grown, 
Discouraged by your labors oft in vain. 
But study well the life of Christ, and say: 
' If so my Master daily toiled, was tired, 
Eejected, yet endured, then what am I 
To grow impatient, drop my hands and cease 
The strife when fails some feeble work of mine 
With little wisdom in its plan, with love 
Imperfect wrought, with motive selflsh, but 
Too often sullied? " 
Excelsior Institotbj, June 26, 1882. 



HOW THE STONE WAS ROLLED AWAY. 

In the hour of twilight gray, 
Ere the sun had cast a ray, 
Faithful women bent their way 
Toward the tomb where Jesus slept: 
All night long they'd watched and wept. 
Sorrow's weary vigil kept; 
Now they each a burden bore, 
Spices sweet — a treasured store — 
Purchased not an hour before. 
Which their love had bade them bring 
To anoint their Lord and king. 



SACRED POEMS. 557 

They had watched when Joseph laid 
In the tomb his hands had made, 
Him whom Judas had betrayed — 
Him by wicked men reviled — 
Beaten by their hands defiled ; 
They had watched with anguish wild, 
As His hands and feet were nailed 
To the cross, but naught availed. 
On the cross they saw him die ; 
Witnessed all His agony. 

Sadly came the Sabbath dawn, 
Slow the quiet hours wore on. 
Prayer seemed empty — hope was gone I 
Longing but to see once more 
Him whose memory they deplore. 
Glad they see that Sabbath o'er. 
Haste they now with eager feet, 
With their spices rare and sweet, 
Fearing lest they hindi'ance meet. 
Hear them doubtful, questioning say : 
" Who shall roll the stone away? " 

Scarce the words their lips had spoke, 
When the sun in splendor broke 
O'er the distant mountain's yoke, 
And revealed the dreaded stone 
rrom the cavern's mouth back-thrown, 
By some power as yet unknown. 
Glad to see this hindrance gone, 
To the tomb they hastened on. 

Lo! what vision greets their eyes, 
Filling each with mute surprise? 
Empty there the grave-cloth lies, 
And an angel, dazzling bright — 
Brighter than the morning light — 
Falls upon their 'stonished sight. 
* Fear ye not," the angel said; 



558 riEESIDE THOUGHTS. 

" Seek ye living 'mong the dead? 
Risen He whose blood was shed." 
Silent then the women turned, 
Scarce believing what they'd learned. 

Thus the stone away was rolled ; 
Thus were sorrowing hearts consoled. 
Often be the story told, 
Tfll each worker cease to fear 
Difficulties which appear 
With our work to interfere, 
Work with tireless, loving zest; 
God will supplememt the rest. 

(1882). 



DAVID'S LAMENT OVER SAUL AND JONATHAN. 

[II. Samuel, Chapter 1.] 

O ye mountains of Gilboa, 

Firm ye've stood since days of Noah, 

With the light of heaven blest ; 
Nevermore let eves bedewing, 
Nevermore let showers renewing, 

Eresh the verdure on thy crest. 

On thy heights the mighty f alleth ! . 

How the thought my soul appalleth! i 

Useless there lie shield and bow — j 

Knew ye not the Lord's annointed? 1 

Was he thus to death appointed ^ 

By the stranger's ready blow? ! 

i 

O ye winds, tell not the story I 

That departed is our glory — 

Tell it not in streets of Gath, ^ 

Saul and Jonathan, so gladly 
Askelon would hear how sadly 

Ye have felt Almighty wrath. 



i 



SACRED POEMS. 559 

Swifter than the eagle's flying, 
Lions in their strength outvying, 

Kushed they both 'gainst Israel's foes; 
Back they turned, not empty handed, 
'* Onward! all their hosts commanded, 

Thus avenging Israel's woes. 

In their lives by love united, 
To their death at once invited — 

Saul, thou wast sweet Israel's light, 
And thy son — where is another 
Can replace thee, friend and brother, 

Taken from my longing sight? 

To me, Jonathan, how tender 

Was the love thy soul did'st render — 

Por thee am I sore distressed! 
Woman's love by far excelling, 
Every thought of self expelling, 

Reigned that love within thy breast. 

Over Saul, Israel's daughter, 
From the sea to Jordan's waters. 

Wildly weep and loudly wail! 
Rich in scarlet cloth he clad you. 
To delights renewed he bade you — 

To delights that never fail, 

"Fallen! fallen! " chant ye weeping, 
" Low in dust our king is sleeping. 
Wounded by the cruel spear! 
Peaceful, Saul, be now thy slumber, 
Let no thought of war encumber 
Or disturb with wakening fear." 

(1882). 



560 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

EUTH AND NAOMI. 

[A poem read at the Annual Longfellow Celebration, February 29, 1884.] 

The Eastern sun, with horizontal beam, 

Spread wide o'er Moab's plain the morning light; 

The mountains farther west their crests upreared 

To catch the earliest gleam, and with it, wake 

To livelier hues the Salt Sea hidden at 

Their base; broad, waiting harvest fields, with wealth 

Unreckoued yet, threw back each golden ray, 

The reaper's task presaging. Not alone 

From glowing mountain-tops, from waving fields, 

From waters murky, things inanimate. 

Came greetings of the morn ; for, while, as yet. 

But glimmering twilight prophesied the day, 

Three women on the way to Jordan's fords had started. 

Setting forth at dawn, betokened haste; 

But as we see them now, with lingering step. 

And many a backward glance they pass along 

The plain. What means this journey lone? the looks 

Eegretful cast? those robes of saddest hue 

That drape with mournful folds each moving form? 

What recent sorrow marks with added lines 

The matron's furrowed cheek, and from the eye 

Of youth has washed its joyous light? Ah! would 

You know? Of widowhood these signals tell, 

The saddest tale that earth has ever told! 

Ah I yes; I know the heart of childhood breaks 

In agonizing sobs, that will not be 

Appeased, when Death the mother's voice hath stilled; 

I know the mother's empty arms hath oft 

In dreams, embraced again the darling lost; 

And waked to hours of freshened grief, because 

'Twas but a phantom of the night ; I know 

The father's pride is broken, humbled in 

The dust, to see his boy, his dearest hope. 

In manhood's prime struck down; but all 

These griefs are slight compared with that which sends 



SACRED POEMS. 561 

A woman forth a wanderer lone ! Alone I 
Sad word I Yet none can ever know how sad 
Till taught by that companionship which makes 
Of twain one flesh. O'erwhelming grief is known 
But by the loss of joy. And such the grief 
Whose weight retards the matron's aged pace, 
And teaches buoyant youth to counterfeit 
The weariness of age. "And why," you ask, 
The backward glance? Ah! 'tis the spell which leads 
TTie mourner, o'er and o'er, to seek the spot 
Where last appeared the cherished features lost 
To earth. In yonder village, from the view 
Keceding now, these women each has left 
A treasure such as this, and harder is the 
Thought than memory of the farewell words 
In broken accents uttered at the dawn 
By living friends. 

"My daughters, see these fields." 
It is the eldest speaks ; with reverent heed 
Her young companions turning hear her words. 

" Like these the harvest's ripening in the sun 
When first mine eyes beheld this Moab plain; 
And glorious was the sight, for I had come 
From out a land where famine's cry was heard. 
Oft-erring Israel once again had sinned, 
And all Judea's sky had turned to brass, 
Her earth to iron, and her rain to dust. 
At Bethlehem, our home, we saw no hope 
Of better days, so hither came we all. 
The morrow after, good Elimelech 
And our two sons the earliest reapers joined, 
All eager once again to earn their bread. 
Orpah, do you and Euth recall that day? " 

' ' Recall ? 'Tis never absent from my thought — 
That day when first I saw your son. 'Twas in 
My father's field — there was no arm like his! 
East fell the grain before his stroke. I thought, 
What happiness to lean on such an arm. 
And call its strength my own. How can I live I 

36 



562 FIRESIDE THOUGHTS. 

How can I live! bereft of such a joy? " 

Such Orpah's words ; Kuth's anguish far too deep 

Tor words, but spoke in unrestrained tears. 

The mother speaks again, " That day, my name 

Naomi seemed no mockery to my soul 

For pleasant was my life ; but, now, 'twere fit 

To call me Mara — bitter, bitter is 

My lot! But you, my daughters, weep no more. 

You have been true to me and to the dead. 

Yield not your youth to grief; for you are joys 

In store. Return unto your people now. 

As I go unto mine." And Orpah kissed 

Her mother-in-law, and, weeping, left ; but Ruth 

Went on, still speechless, till Naomi said, 

" Why go you not with Orpah back again? 
Among strange people you will pine for home. 
I am not worth the sacrifice of your 
Young life: the grave, ere long, will end my cares." 
Then Ruth, her purpose in her tones, replied, 

" Entreat me not to leave thee, no^ to return; 
For to the places thou goest, I will go, 
And whereso'er thou lodgest, I will lodge; 
Thy people shall be mine; thy God, my God. 
Where e'er thou diest, let me die, and there 
Be buried. Death alone shall sever me 
From thee." And Ruth steadfastly kept her word. 



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